Collected Poems

Collected Poems

Collected Poems

Collected Poems

Excerpt

I step from a land no eye has seen
To a land no hand may ever hold;
My name with the sea's cold tears is green,
My words are the wind's words graved in gold

This scrip upon my back holds hearts
That saw their hero in a dream;
This staff is ward against the darts
That stiffen trout in silver stream

So, pilgrim, continents I tread,
The cross-bones in my breast for rood,
Breaking the shepherd's dusty bread,
The brittle beech leaves in the wood

II
WELSH CHOIR

A bird sang to me out of Wales;
But, O man, the blood and the tears!
And the wild wild wailing in the hills,
And Caradoc's gore aflame on the moors . . .

Search by... Author
Show... All Results Primary Sources Peer-reviewed

Oops!

An unknown error has occurred. Please click the button below to reload the page. If the problem persists, please try again in a little while.