#WelshWriters
When I was a windy boy and a bit And the black spit of the chapel f… (Sighed the old ram rod, dying of… I tiptoed shy in the gooseberry wo… The rude owl cried like a tell-tal…
To-day, this insect, and the world… Now that my symbols have outelbowe… Time at the city spectacles, and h… The dear, daft time I take to nud… In trust and tale I have divided…
Was there a time when dancers with… In children’s circuses coul stay t… There was a time they could cry ov… But time has set its maggot on the… Under the arc of the sky they are…
Do not go gentle into that good ni… Old age should burn and rave at cl… Rage, rage against the dying of th… Though wise men at their end know… Because their words had forked no…
'If my head hurt a hair’s foot Pack back the downed bone. If the… Bump on a spout let the bubbles ju… Sooner drop with the worm of the r… Than bully ill love in the clouted…
I have longed to move away From the hissing of the spent lie And the old terrors’ continual cry Growing more terrible as the day Goes over the hill into the deep s…
On almost the incendiary eve Of several near deaths, When one at the great least of you… And always known must leave Lions and fires of his flying brea…
In my craft or sullen art Exercised in the still night When only the moon rages And the lovers lie abed With all their griefs in their arm…
I see the boys of summer in their… Lay the gold tithings barren, Setting no store by harvest, freez… There in their heat the winter flo… Of frozen loves they fetch their g…
There was an old bugger called Go… who got a young virgin in pod. This disgraceful behaviour begot Christ our Saviour, who was nailed to a cross, poor ol…
Because the pleasure-bird whistles… Shall the blind horse sing sweeter… Convenient bird and beast lie lodg… The supper and knives of a mood. In the sniffed and poured snow on…
It’s my belief that every man Should do his share of work, And in our economic plan No citizen should shirk. That in return each one should get
Why east wind chills and south win… Shall not be known till windwell d… And west’s no longer drowned In winds that bring the fruit and… Of many a hundred falls;
If I were tickled by the rub of l… A rooking girl who stole me for he… Broke through her straws, breaking… If the red tickle as the cattle ca… Still set to scratch a laughter fr…
The sky is torn across This ragged anniversary of two Who moved for three years in tune Down the long walks of their vows. Now their love lies a loss