Ronald Stuart Thomas

(1913 - 2000 / Cardiff / Wales)

Ronald Stuart Thomas Poems

1. The Absence 9/16/2015
2. Forest Dwellers 2/11/2016
3. The Bright Field 2/29/2016
4. The Dance 12/25/2014
5. A Marriage 2/3/2015
6. Thirteen Blackbirds Looking At A Man 1/3/2003
7. The Old Language 1/3/2003
8. The Woman 1/13/2003
9. The Village 1/13/2003
10. The Dark Well 1/3/2003
11. Welsh History 1/3/2003
12. Sorry 1/13/2003
13. The Ancients Of The World 1/3/2003
14. Album 1/13/2003
15. Taliesin 1/3/2003
16. The Way Of It 1/3/2003
17. Poetry For Supper 1/13/2003
18. Ruins 1/3/2003
19. An Old Man 1/13/2003
20. Good 1/3/2003
21. Night And Morning 1/3/2003
22. Praise 1/3/2003
23. Chapel Deacon 1/13/2003
24. A Welshman To Any Tourist 1/3/2003
25. The Cat And The Sea 1/3/2003
26. Welsh Landscape 1/13/2003
27. Here 1/3/2003
28. Pisces 1/3/2003
29. A Welsh Testament 1/13/2003
30. On The Farm 1/13/2003
31. A Peasant 1/13/2003
32. Death Of A Poet 1/13/2003
33. Children's Song 1/13/2003
34. Evans 1/13/2003
35. A Day In Autumn 3/21/2004
36. A Blackbird Singing 1/13/2003
37. Ninetieth Birthday 1/13/2003

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  • AbdulKAYYUM (12/25/2019 4:48:00 AM)

    He has 500 topper. WHY

    0 person liked.
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  • Christine le Roux (11/6/2018 7:47:00 AM)

    I'm desperately looking for the poem Gifts by R. S. Thomas. It ends with: To my children/ the hunger

    1 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Theresa Dowling (9/4/2011 2:15:00 PM)

    A recent discovery! A genuine Christian poet when Christian poetry has almost become extinct. Thomas is not known at all in the U.S., except by an academic here and there - he certainly isn't taught. That is our loss!

    12 person liked.
    5 person did not like.
Best Poem of Ronald Stuart Thomas

Evans

Evans? Yes, many a time
I came down his bare flight
Of stairs into the gaunt kitchen
With its wood fire, where crickets sang
Accompaniment to the black kettle"s
Whine, and so into the cold
Dark to smother in the thick tide
Of night that drifted about the walls
Of his stark farm on the hill ridge.

It was not the dark filling my eyes
And mouth appalled me; not even the drip
Of rain like blood from the one tree
Weather-tortured. It was the dark
Silting the veins of that sick man
I left stranded upon the vast
And lonely shore of his bleak ...

Read the full of Evans

A Blackbird Singing

It seems wrong that out of this bird,
Black, bold, a suggestion of dark
Places about it, there yet should come
Such rich music, as though the notes'
Ore were changed to a rare metal
At one touch of that bright bill.

You have heard it often, alone at your desk
In a green April, your mind drawn