About R.S. Thomas
1913 - 2000/WelshR.S.Thomas (1913 - September 25, 2000) was a British poet, born in Cardiff 1913. He was Educated at University College of North Wales, Bangor. His first book The Stones of the Field was published in 1946 and his Collected Poems 1945 to 1990 was published
Selected Quotes
Poetry & Stories
A Marriage
We metunder a shower
The Village
Scarcely a street, too few housesTo merit the title; just a way between
Welsh Landscape
To live in Wales is to be consciousAt dusk of the spilled blood
A Blackbird Singing
It seems wrong that out of this bird,Black, bold, a suggestion of dark
The Dance
She is young. Have I the rightEven to name her? Child,
About R.S. Thomas
R.S. Thomas: Quick Answers
Who is R.S. Thomas?
1913 - 2000/WelshR. S.
Where can I read R.S. Thomas's poetry?
Kavishala has 18 poems and stories by R.S. Thomas, free to read on this page, along with selected quotes you can share.
Poems & Stories by R.S. Thomas
A Marriage
We metunder a shower
The Village
Scarcely a street, too few housesTo merit the title; just a way between
Welsh Landscape
To live in Wales is to be consciousAt dusk of the spilled blood
A Blackbird Singing
It seems wrong that out of this bird,Black, bold, a suggestion of dark
The Dance
She is young. Have I the rightEven to name her? Child,
An Old Man
Looking upon this tree with its quaint pretensionOf holding the earth, a leveret, in its claws,
Chapel Deacon
Who put that crease in your soul,Davies, ready this fine morning
A Welsh Testament
All right, I was Welsh. Does it matter?I spoke a tongue that was passed on
The Woman
So beautiful--God himself quailedat her approach: the long body curved
Children's Song
We live in our own world,A world that is too small
A Peasant
Iago Prytherch his name, though, be it allowed,Just an ordinary man of the bald Welsh hills,
On The Farm
There was Dai Puw. He was no good.They put him in the fields to dock swedes,
Selected Quotes by R.S. Thomas (चुनिंदा उद्धरण)
We live in our own world,A world that is too small
To live in Wales is to be consciousAt dusk of the spilled blood
Who put that crease in your soul,Davies, ready this fine morning
There was Dai Puw. He was no good.They put him in the fields to dock swedes,
It seems wrong that out of this bird,Black, bold, a suggestion of dark
Scarcely a street, too few housesTo merit the title; just a way between
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