#WelshWriters
I am, as you know, Walter Llywarc… Born in Wales of approved parents… Well goitred, round in the bum, Sure prey of the slow virus Bred in quarries of grey rain.
One night of tempest I arose and… Along the Menai shore on dreaming… The wind was strong, and savage sw… And the waves blustered on Caerna… But on the morrow, when I passed…
They see you as they see you, A poor farmer with no name, Ploughing cloudward, sowing the wi… With squalls of gulls at the day’s… To me you are Prytherch, the man
I have this that I must do One day: overdraw on my balance Of air, and breaking the surface Of water go down into the green Darkness to search for the door
To live in Wales is to be conscio… At dusk of the spilled blood That went into the making of the w… Dyeing the immaculate rivers In all their courses.
I have been all men known to histo… Wondering at the world and at time… I have seen evil, and the light bl… Innocent love under a spring sky. I have been Merlin wandering in t…
Nineteen years now Under the same roof Eating our bread, Using the same air: Sighing, if one sighs,
I praise you because you are artist and scientist in one. When I am somewhat fearful of your power, your ability to work miracles
Looking upon this tree with its qu… Of holding the earth, a leveret, i… Or marking the texture of its livi… A grey sea wrinkled by the winds o… I understand whence this man’s bod…
Scarcely a street, too few houses To merit the title; just a way bet… The one tavern and the one shop That leads nowhere and fails at th… Of the short hill, eaten away
Coming home was to that: The white house in the cool grass Membraned with shadow, the bright… Of stream that was its looking—gla… And smoke growing above the roof
All my life I was face to face with her, at meal—times, by the fire, even in the ultimate intimacies
My garden is the wild Sea of the grass. Her garden Shelters between walls. The tide could break in; I should be sorry for this.
Shelley dreamed it. Now the dream… The props crumble; the familiar wa… Are stale with tears trodden under… The heart’s flower withers at the… Bury it then, in history’s sterile…
The furies are at home in the mirror; it is their address… Even the clearest water, if deep enough can drown. Never think to surprise them.