On Fields of Praise
There are mornings on God’s Earth when the truth of Dylan Thomas’s “Fern Hill” comes home to you:
And then to awake, and the farm, like a wanderer white
With the dew, come back, the cock on his shoulder: it was all
Shining, it was Adam and maiden,
The sky gathered again
And the sun grew round that very day.
So it must have been after the birth of the simple light
In the first, spinning place, the spellbound horses walking
Out of the whinnying green stable
On to the fields of praise.
(Give yourself a midsummer’s treat: listen to Thomas’s fellow Welshman Richard Burton’s reading of the whole poem,