#Welsh
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…
Should lanterns shine, the holy fa… Caught in an octagon of unaccustom… Would wither up, and any boy of lo… Look twice before he fell from gra… The features in their private dark
After the funeral, mule praises, b… Windshake of sailshaped ears, muff… Tap happily of one peg in the thic… Grave’s foot, blinds down the lids… The spittled eyes, the salt ponds…
I could never have dreamt that the… in the world between the covers of… such sandstorms and ice blasts of… such staggering peace, such enormo… such and so many blinding bright l…
Now as I was young and easy under… About the lilting house and happy… The night above the dingle starry, Time let me hail and climb Golden in the heydays of his eyes,
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;
The hand that signed the paper fel… Five sovereign fingers taxed the b… Doubled the globe of dead and halv… These five kings did a king to dea… The mighty hand leads to a sloping…
Myselves The grievers Grieve Among the street burned to tireles… A child of a few hours
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…
The bows glided down, and the coas… Blackened with birds took a last l… At his thrashing hair and whale-bl… The trodden town rang its cobbles… Then good-bye to the fishermanned
A stranger has come To share my room in the house not… A girl mad as birds Bolting the night of the door with… Strait in the mazed bed
Too proud to die; broken and blind… The darkest way, and did not turn… A cold kind man brave in his narro… On that darkest day. Oh, forever… He lie lightly, at last, on the la…
It is the sinners’ dust-tongued be… When, with his torch and hourglass… His beast heel cleft in a sandal, Time marks a black aisle kindle fr… Grief with dishevelled hands tear…
Sometimes the sky’s too bright, Or has too many clouds or birds, And far away’s too sharp a sun To nourish thinking of him. Why is my hand too blunt
Waking alone in a multitude of lov… Surprised in the opening of her ni… His golden yesterday asleep upon t… And this day’s sun leapt up the sk… Was miraculous virginity old as lo…