Don Evans
Central Arizona, USA
17 Oct 2004

Lo, ye land of Merlin’s myth,
where Draco dwells neath Arthur’s monolith.

It bids thee welcome to the ancient spirits quest,
longing for the hour of it’s final rest.

Where knights once searched for hidden treasure,
now, bard and yeomen seek thy pleasure.

Low green vale in the deepest glen,
they give rise to mighty Yr Wyddfa’s den.

This land, that summons to it’s host,
silently speaks through the raven’s ghost.

Blood, running hot from a sea of mist,
timeless, Cymru, this place of legends tryst.

Breast aching, eyes yearning to see,
alas, no peace, always beckoning thee.