Text of poem - A Farmer. A man so small in the green surge of grass - Lapping his limbs, yet stranger to despair, Sure of his mastery in the age-old war Of fibre and sinew, blood and bone With the crude earth and the indifferent stone. Ah, could we appropriate for the subtler strife Of mind and spirit with a seven-fold death Tithe of his courage, tithe of his faith, How firm the gesture of each puny life! R. S. THOMAS

‘A Farmer’ - #RSThomas
( "Wales" [No2 Oct/Nov/Dec 1943] )
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