About poets' doom
there's many a brass farthing's rung
Saying 'tap-room joker

Roaring man and boy'
A shape shifted out of an old song
For whom the world is ever the more awry

But as bards relate
Gwydions other son
Dylan Ail Ton

At his birth swims off in the birthless sea
Seeking the silence between the words
Our storied land is ghosted with long care

The upscape cliffed and cleft to human use
Sprung of the tide that furrowed us
The glacial signature

Before the sea-drift shored us
With dogs and bees
Where no roads fallow

The plowed hills steer
The drown of kings
Hulked to the sheath of snow

Hearing the silence between the words
This compass lilts and rants from quill to print
With stage thunder sails the fish boy's tide

The wizard straw folds well in the waistcoat
Ever abides the rune in the wrought word
And any ear that listens to the night

Hears the same silence the bards believed
The silence between the words