Nissen News - 15.12.1941, Blaðsíða 23

The Circle of C
I walk and cinder bats riddle my cloak
I walk to Cwmcelyn ask prophets t’ne way.
There is no way they cry crouched on the hoarstone rock
And the Dogs of Annwn roared louder than of late.
Red fever will fall with the maytide blossom
Fever as red as your cloak. Woe to all men.
Food-ties will mellow in the bromide season
Then willowed peace may be bought.
But what of my love I cry
As a curfew stabbed the sand.
And we cut for the answer. They said
He would come not as he said he would corae
But later with sailing ice, war glass and lame.
Grieve not it is better so.
I left the Bay wing-felled and bogged
Kicked the shale despondent and green
Hear Rosic say lace-curtained in clogs
I’ve put a Yule log on your grate.
Lynette Roberts.
(From ‘Life and Letters Today’ with acknowledg-
ments to author and publishers.)