A SONG OF WALES by ARTHUR GLYN PRYS-JONES

I

OH, some men pine for the South Country,
And some for the mellow West,
And some fare out on the wide sea
For the dreams that bring them rest,
But give to me the old road that winds through town and shire
Across the bar of the Severn Sea to the land of my desire.

II

And some men sing of a cloudless sky
And the blue of Southern day,
But—oh—for me the wind's cry
At night by a lonely bay,
With wreathing mists on the high hills that laugh above the rain
Away in the land of the golden heart that I must see again.

III

Oh, some men go to the ends of earth
For a heritage proud and fine,
But give to me the deep mirth
Of the songs that flow like wine,
The old, thatched farm and the peat-fires that glimmer through the night
In the land of the little fairy-folk, the land of my delight.

IV

And there shall I find harping strings
And silver rhymes and old,
And precious, half-forgotten things,
And hearts which grow not cold,
And the healing peace of the mountains, and the gleam of the lowland corn,
And the voices out of the twilight—in the land where I was born.

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

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