"I have begun to write in verse and am impatient of anything else."
Vernon Watkins on Edward Thomas' poetry, interviewed by Prof. R. George Thomas in 1967.
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Vernon Watkins ar farddoniaeth Edward Thomas, mewn cyfweliad gyda’r Athro R. George Thomas yn 1967.
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In May 1914, Edward wrote to Robert Frost: "I wonder whether you can imagine me taking to verse. If you can I might get over the feeling that it is impossible." Frost was an American poet, author of North of Boston (1914), which Edward described in one of his reviews as "one of the most revolutionary books of modern times". He encouraged Edward’s poetic efforts, and the two became close friends, so much so that in 1915, Edward was on the verge of moving his family to America to write, farm and teach alongside him.
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Ym mis Mai 1914, ysgrifennodd Edward at Robert Frost: “I wonder whether you can imagine me taking to verse. If you can I might get over the feeling that it is impossible.” Roedd Frost yn fardd Americanaidd, awdur North of Boston (1914), y gwnaeth Edward ei ddisgrifio yn un o'i adolygiadau fel a ganlyn: "one of the most revolutionary books of modern times". Fe wnaeth ef annog ymdrechion barddonol Edward, a daeth y ddau yn ffrindiau agos, yn gymaint felly fel bod Edward ar fin symud ei deulu i America i ysgrifennu, ffermio ac addysgu ochr yn ochr ag ef.
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Edward Thomas wrote his first poems in December 1914, using a pseudonym, Edward Eastaway. He was hesitant to reveal these efforts to friends, but eventually sent drafts to friends and fellow writers Robert Frost, Gordon Bottomley, and Eleanor Farjeon, urging confidentiality.
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Ysgrifennodd Edward Thomas ei gerddi cyntaf ym mis Rhagfyr 1914, gan ddefnyddio ffugenw, Edward Eastaway. Roedd yn amharod i ddatgelu’r ymdrechion hyn i ffrindiau ond, yn raddol, anfonodd fersiynau drafft at ffrindiau a’i gyd-awduron Robert Frost, Gordon Bottomley ac Eleanor Farjeon, gan annog cyfrinachedd.
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“I have begun to write in verse and am impatient of anything else. Don’t mention it. I am trying to test the unsympathetic world first by using a pseudonym. Someday I will show you what I am doing. Perhaps it is only like doing the best parts of my prose in verse and leaving out the connecting futile parts.”
In July 1915, Gordon Bottomley showed a number of Edward’s verses to poets Lascelles Abercrombie and R. C. Trevelyan, with a proposition to include them in the 1917 edition of An Annual of New Poetry. They agreed wholeheartedly, and the poems were published a few weeks before Thomas’ death.
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Ym mis Gorffennaf 1915, dangosodd Gordon Bottomley nifer o gerddi Edward i’r beirdd, Lascelles Abercrombie ac R. C. Trevelyan, gyda chynnig i'w cynnwys yn rhifyn 1917 o An Annual of New Poetry. Cytunasant yn frwd a chyhoeddwyd y cerddi ychydig wythnosau cyn marwolaeth Thomas.
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“I didn’t really mean anyone to know about my verses. I have shown them to a few only. But I was keeping them rather secret. However I am so pleased at having Abercrombie’s liking that I should not dream of complaining.”
P.H.T.
Written in February 1916 but unpublished until 1949, when the title revealed the subject of the poem: Philip Henry Thomas, Edward’s father. The two had a difficult relationship; Philip was consistently opposed to Edward’s writing career, and would have preferred him to follow his footsteps in the civil service.
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Fe’i hysgrifennwyd ym mis Chwefror 1916 ond ni chafodd ei chyhoeddi tan 1949, pan ddatgelodd y teitl bwnc y gerdd: Philip Henry Thomas, tad Edward. Roedd perthynas anodd rhwng y ddau; fe wnaeth Philip wrthwynebu gyrfa ysgrifennu Edward yn gyson a buasai wedi bod yn well ganddo pe bai Edward wedi ei ddilyn i’r gwasanaeth sifil.
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I may come near loving you When you are dead And there is nothing to do And much to be said. To repent that day will be Impossible For you and vain for me The truth to tell. I shall be sorry for Your impotence: You can do and undo no more When you go hence, Cannot even forgive The funeral. But not so long as you live Can I love you at all. |
Blenheim Oranges
Written in September 1916 at the Royal Artillery School, and corrected in Eleanor Farjeon’s hand. Here titled “Gone, gone again.”
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Fe’i hysgrifennwyd ym mis Medi 1916 yn y Royal Artillery School ac fe’i cywirwyd gan law Eleanor Farjeon. Yma o dan y teitl “Gone, gone again.”
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Gone, gone again,
May, June, July, And August gone, Again gone by, Not memorable Save that I saw them go, As past the empty quays The rivers flow. And now again, In the harvest rain, The Blenheim oranges Fall grubby from the trees, As when I was young-- And when the lost one was here-- And when the war began To turn young men to dung. |
Look at the old house,
Outmoded, dignified, Dark and untenanted, With grass growing instead Of the footsteps of life, The friendliness, the strife; In its beds have lain Youth, love, age, and pain: I am something like that; Only I am not dead, Still breathing and interested In the house that is not dark:-- I am something like that: Not one pane to reflect the sun, For the schoolboys to throw at-- They have broken every one. |
Lights Out
Manuscript of the first draft of this poem, enclosed in a letter to Eleanor Farjeon in Nov 1916 from the Royal Artillery Barracks, Trowbridge. It is written on the reverse of a sheet of writing paper bearing the printed heading: “Tabernacle Men’s Institute, Church Street, Trowbridge”. It is written in long lines to give the appearance of a letter, so that Thomas’ fellow soldiers would not realise he was writing poetry. The commas indicate intended line breaks.
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Llawysgrif o’r drafft cyntaf o'r gerdd hon, wedi'i hamgáu mewn llythyr at Eleanor Farjeon ym mis Tachwedd 1916 o’r Royal Artillery Barracks, Trowbridge. Mae wedi'i hysgrifennu ar gefn dalen o bapur ysgrifennu sydd â’r pennawd printiedig canlynol: “Tabernacle Men’s Institute, Church Street, Trowbridge”. Mae wedi’i hysgrifennu mewn llinellau hir i roi’r argraff mai llythyr ydyw, fel na fyddai cyd-filwyr Thomas yn sylweddoli ei fod yn ysgrifennu barddoniaeth. Mae’r atalnodau’n dangos y toriadau a fwriadwyd mewn llinellau.
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I have come to the borders of sleep,
The unfathomable deep Forest where all must lose Their way, however straight, Or winding, soon or late; They cannot choose. Many a road and track That, since the dawn’s first crack, Up to the forest brink, Deceived the travellers, Suddenly now blurs, And in they sink. Here love ends, Despair, ambition ends; All pleasure and all trouble, Although most sweet or bitter, Here ends in sleep that is sweeter Than tasks most noble. There is not any book Or face of dearest look That I would not turn from now To go into the unknown I must enter, and leave, alone, I know not how. The tall forest towers; Its cloudy foliage lowers Ahead, shelf above shelf; Its silence I hear and obey That I may lose my way And myself. |
Poems by Edward Thomas, read by Dr. James Castell.
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Cerddi gan Edward Thomas, darllen gan Dr. James Castell.
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Edward Eastaway, Six poems (Flansham: Pear Tree Press, 1916).
James Guthrie (1874-1952), owner of the Pear Tree Press, privately printed six of Edward's poems under a pseudonym. It was the first publication solely devoted to his poetry. |
Fe wnaeth James Guthrie (1874-1952), perchennog Pear Tree Press, gyhoeddi chwech o gerddi Edward yn breifat, o dan ffugenw. Dyma oedd y cyhoeddiad cyntaf o’i gerddi yn unig. |
Edward Thomas, Poems (London: Selwyn & Bount, 1917).
Published on 10 October 1917, this was Edward’s first substantial book of poems, containing 64 works, most which had not been previously published. He had signed the contract in January before leaving for France, and dedicated the book to Robert Frost. In this publication, which he did not live to see, he finally relinquishes his pseudonym and reveals his identity. |
Y llyfr hwn, a gyhoeddwyd ar 10 Hydref 1917, oedd cyfrol swmpus gyntaf Edward o farddoniaeth, yn cynnwys 64 cerdd, y mwyafrif ohonynt heb eu cyhoeddi cyn hynny. Roedd wedi arwyddo’r contract ym mis Ionawr cyn gadael am Ffrainc, gan gyflwyno’r llyfr i Robert Frost. Yn y cyhoeddiad hwn, na wnaeth fyw i’w weld, mae’n rhoi’r gorau i’w ffugenw o’r diwedd ac yn datgelu pwy ydyw. |