I find Thomas’s I Was Vicar of Large Things peculiar and appealing in the same way as Auden’s Their Lonely Betters.
They both indirectly point to things that are not of this world.
Something of light and goodness and, above all, hope.
I Was Vicar of Large Things
By: R. S. Thomas
I was vicar of large things
in a small parish. Small-minded
I will not say, there were depths
in some of them I shrank back
from, wells that the word “God
”fell into and died away,
and for all I know is still
falling. Who goes for water
to such must prepare for a long
wait. Their eyes looked at me
and were the remains of flowers
on an old grave. I was there,
I felt, to blow on ashes
that were too long cold. Often,
when I thought they were about
to unbar to me, the draught
out of their empty places
came whistling so that I wrapped
myself in the heavier clothing
of my calling, speaking of light and love
in the thickening shadows of their kitchens.
