English poem
To Arthur Clutton-Brock
by Lionel Johnson (1867–1902)
In purple heather is my sleep On Moel Fammau: far below, The springing rivulets leap, The firs wave to and fro.
This morn, the sun on Bala Lake Broke out behind me: morrow morn Near Rhual I shall wake, Before the sun is born;
High burning over Clywyd Vale, And reddening the mountain dew: While the moon lingers frail, High up in skies of blue.
Lovely and loved, O passionate land! Dear Celtic land, unconquered still! Thy mountain strength prevails: Thy winds have all their will.
They have no care for meaner things; They have no scorn for brooding dreams: A spirit in them sings, A light about them beams.