Hiraeth

Amidst the wild bushes, she was,

Shone her lips by swarms of fireflies,

The wattles, holding my twigs she was,

The tranquillity to my million cries

The doves that perched our hands on sills,

The mud we danced in ignorant to the water that trickled,

The roses now wither with no puddles to fill,

I hear Hemlocks cry,

Oh! little sparrow thy nest is long gone,

I hear Marigolds sigh,

Thy nest is far gone.