Where once her warm and sanguine heart

fell ashen grey to rest in cold base dirt

high over the familiar bush and shrub

proud crimson blooms pine for love  

Where their sacred beauty sings to my heart

they call forth the lovely nightingale

high in their cloudless summer sky

to sweetly sing their longing song

There, I too confess a secret yearning

silent hidden d...

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I sit outside the door

on a slate bench

my back against the cottage wall

in the evening sun

listening to a blackbird sing

the most astonishing sweet notes

In front of me

there is elderflower

honeysuckle

buttercups spangle the uncut grass

and the old larch looms in its corner

beyond the ancient stones of Hafod

which mark my plot

The sun has not long returned

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