Saturday, June 16, 2012

Enoch Powell: First Poems : XXVII) Nant y Moch

XXVII) Nant y Moch

Where the rusty mountain rill,
Dripping, dripping from the peat,
Turning all the stones to red,
Dancing down its gravel bed,
Fills the valley with its hum,

There my craving shall be still,
There my craving shall be dumb
And there my heart shall tranquil beat,
Where failure and success are none
And life itself with death is one
And the ends of the world meet.

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