This week’s choice is “The Lonely Farmer” by the Reverend R.S. Thomas.

The poor hill farmer, so often again
Stopping, staring, listening, in vain,
His ear betrayed by the heart’s need.
Rev R.S. Thomas (1913—2000)

Poem 207. The Lonely Farmer

Poor hill farmer astray in the grass;
There came a movement and he looked up, but
All that he saw was the wind pass.
There was a sound of voice on the air.
But where, where? It was only the glib stream talking
Softly to itself. And once when he was walking
Along a lane in spring he was deceived
By a shrill whistle coming through the leaves;
Wait a minute, wait a minute—four swift notes;
He turned, and it was nothing, only a Thrush
In the thorn bushes easing its throat.
He swore at himself for paying heed,
The poor hill farmer, so often again
Stopping, staring, listening, in vain,
His ear betrayed by the heart’s need.

This is another poem I was introduced to by the rich voice of Richard Burton, who read it as part of an anthology of poems on tape.

This short poem shows us a man whose solitary existence weighs on him to such an extent that he eagerly looks for any hint that he might not be alone. In just a few lines Thomas shows us the feelings of this man—“stopping, staring, listening, in vain.” His hopes for companionship or even company are dashed so many times that he curses himself for his credulity.

I like this poem because it perfectly and concisely expresses the experience of loneliness. It also suggests the beauty of the natural world around the farmer—the “glib stream” and the thrush’s song: “Wait a minute, wait a minute—four swift notes” as it perches in the bushes, “easing its throat” and the initial image of the wind blowing the long grass.

The Heart’s Need

Poem 207. The Lonely Farmer

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