  Where the salt sea winds her sleeping path Up the River Seiont in summer time, And daisies flush the aftermath Of stubble corn; and heavy cows Wait by the water’s edge, While cloud-capped Snowdon hills grow dim, And fading Anglesey a crystal rim,— Then Your spirit comes, A tidal sea, Winding, Up the River Seiont, Past the purple hill; Winding, Past the Castle wall, Winding;— Then Your spirit comes, Winding, Up the River Seiont To me. |
|
