Guest poem sent in by Dave Fortin :
(Poem #1297) The Birthright We who were born In country places, Far from cities And shifting faces, We have a birthright No man can sell, And a secret joy No man can tell. For we are kindred To lordly things, The wild duck's flight And the white owl's wings; To pike and salmon, To bull and horse, The curlew's cry And the smell of gorse. Pride of trees, Swiftness of streams, Magic of frost Have shaped our dreams: No baser vision Their spirit fills Who walk by right On the naked hills. |
I grew up in rural Missouri and this evokes happy memories, especially now that I am stuck in a sprawling subruban environment. I like the usage of the short lines and traditional Welsh imagery to bring forth the beauty and joys of rural life. As for the poetess, Eiluned Lewis (1900-1979) was born at Newtown, Montgomeryshire. She became a journalist and was assistant editor of The Sunday Times, 1931-36. Her novel _Dew on the Grass_ (1934) won the Gold Medal of the Book Guild. Dave Fortin
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