The Moor by R. S. Thomas

[dragonyphoenix]

Found this on Poetry Chaikhana. It's too beautiful to keep to myself.


The Moor by R. S. Thomas

It was like a church to me.
I entered it on soft foot,
Breath held like a cap in the hand.
It was quiet.
What God was there made himself felt,
Not listened to, in clean colours
That brought a moistening of the eye,
In movement of the wind over grass.

There were no prayers said. But stillness
Of the heart's passions -- that was praise
Enough; and the mind's cession
Of its kingdom. I walked on,
Simple and poor, while the air crumbled
And broke on me generously as bread.

Comments

[diebirchen.livejournal.com]

Yeah, but you gotta love, "I grow old . . . I grow old . . . I shall wear my trouser bottoms rolled."

[dragonyphoenix.livejournal.com]

Oooh, you're right. Perhaps I should have read that poem more closely.