Celtic crosses cast pale shadow

from dun light through mists

This wilderness of grey stone crags

or matted thatch in brown

To the cold brook where earth trembles

Find a mountain for your seat

Where bitter dregs may find your palate

pure water still will sate your thirst

from springs primeval

Where Arthurian echoes sound

At rail’s end the sea begins

and dreams of shame sleep silent

that we may forget