Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, AUTUMN IN WALES, by ARTHUR GLYN PRYS-JONES


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

AUTUMN IN WALES, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: There never was a paradise with such a glory spread
Last Line: For the gateways of the towy are the gates of paradise.
Subject(s): Courts & Courtiers; Wales; Welshmen; Welshwomen


I

THERE never was a paradise with such a glory spread
As down by winding Towy in the land where I was bred—
When Autumn, like a prodigal with treasury of gold,
Flings out her gleaming fortune to the woodland and the world.

II

The trees stand up like sentinels about the gates of dawn
Where the miracles of morning and the dreams of day are born,
And the silken, dewy gossamer makes scarves of silver sheen
Such as a prince of olden Wales might wrap around a queen.

III

The murmur of the river is faint music softly heard,
Like songs of a far singer or a lover's parting word,
And the splendour of the lichens is as rubies red with fire
Along the passionate woodlands where the throstles never tire.

IV

God made our Cymric language from the red, autumnal trees,
Like tapestry He wrought it rare with colours rich as these,
And He planted it by Towy and by Teifi first of all
Where the fields are green for ever and the trees are fine and tall.

V

And here it shall not fade or die nor ever halt nor fail
But grow in strength and beauty with the splendour of the vale,
And men shall say that Towy folk have heaven in their eyes,
For the gateways of the Towy are the gates of Paradise.





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