I have seen the sun break through
to illuminate a small field
for a while, and gone on my way
and forgotten it. But that was the
pearl of great price, the one field that had
treasure in it. I realise now
that I must give all I have
to possess it. Life is not hurrying
on to a receding future, nor hankering after
an imagined path. It is the turning
aside like Moses to the miracle
of the lit bush, to a brightness,
that seemed as transitory as your youth
once, but is the eternity that awaits you.
A Bright Field, by R S Thomas. I won’t add too much about this beautiful poem, except how much I admire his use of enjambament. Each line’s sense and rhythm runs on naturally to the next, but if you took each line chopped on its own with the words, you would also find something beautiful and provoking. Thomas also achieves Wordsworth’s ideal of emotion recollected in tranquillity.