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The Untamed

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My garden is the wild
   Sea of the grass. Her garden
Shelters between walls.
   The tide could break in;
   I should be sorry for this.

There is peace there of a kind,
   Though not the deep peace
Of wild places. Her care
   For green life has enabled
   The weak things to grow.

Despite my first love,
   I take sometimes her hand,
Following straight paths
   Between flowers, the nostril
   Clogged with their thick scent.

The old softness of lawns
   Persuading the slow foot
Leads to defection; the silence
   Holds with its gloved hand
   The wild hawk of the mind.

But not for long, windows,
   Opening in the trees
Call the mind back
   To its true eyrie; I stoop
   Here only in play.

R. S. Thomas, “The Untamed” from The Poems of R. S. Thomas. Copyright © Kunjana Thomas 2001.  Reprinted by permission of University of Arizona Press.
Source: The Poems of R. S. Thomas (1985)
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The Untamed

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