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M.G.


I saw one sun a 'theric figure

A woman, sweet and gracious there

She sat and smiled and turned her head

And she was crowned with Nature's


Great coverings of the nobilesse

The bears, the wolves, the crouching 'pards,

And she would look me in my eyes

But I could not meet hers


For out of every thought unfurled,

In every plaintive mind

Each tendrils tip, each burning tho'

I searched but could not find


A piece of Eden hidden there,

Acceptance grown in bud,

My own distinctive cry for aid,

Pathetic fallen blood

Of Welsh and flatlands families,

Of mountains long in song,

Whatever Madam did tonight

She wouldn't quite belong.


I told her then to go away,

And when I woke at dawn

The halo'd, glowing figure of her,

Was faded into rising morn'.


(First drafted 5th December 2012 in St. Quentin, revised 8th December)

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