R. S. Thomas

The Hearth

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In front of the fire
With you, the folk song
Of the wind in the chimney and the sparks'
Embroidery of the soot--eternity
Is here in this small room,
In intervals that our love
Widens; and outside
Of time, travellers
To a new Bethlehem, statesmen
And scientists with their hands full
Of the gifts that destroy.

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R. S. Thomas