#Welsh #XXCentury
We live in our own world, A world that is too small For you to stoop and enter Even on hands and knees, The adult subterfuge.
And this was a civilization That came to nothing—he spurned wi… The slave—coloured dust. We breat… Thankfully, oxygen to our culture. Somebody found a curved bone
I praise you because you are artist and scientist in one. When I am somewhat fearful of your power, your ability to work miracles
I am the farmer, stripped of love And thought and grace by the land’… But what I am saying over the fie… Desolate acres, rough with dew, Is, Listen, listen, I am a man li…
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
She is young. Have I the right Even to name her? Child, It is not love I offer Your quick limbs, your eyes; Only the barren homage
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…
It seems wrong that out of this bi… Black, bold, a suggestion of dark Places about it, there yet should… Such rich music, as though the not… Ore were changed to a rare metal
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.
The idiot goes round and around With his brother in a bumping car At the fair. The famous idiot Smile hangs over the car’s edge, Illuminating nothing. This is man…
We were a people taut for war; the… Were no harder, the thin grass Clothed them more warmly than the… Shirts our small bones. We fought, and were always in retr…
With her fingers she turns paint into flowers, with her body flowers into a remembrance of herself. She is at work always, mending the garment
Too far for you to see The fluke and the foot-rot and the… Gnawing the skin from the small bo… The sheep are grazing at Bwlch-y-… Arranged romantically in the usual…
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…
