Francis Ledwidge

When the clouds shake their hyssops, and the rain Like holy water falls upon the plain, 'Tis sweet to gaze upon the springing grain

Somewhere is music from the linnets' bills, And thro' the sunny flowers the bee-wings drone, And white bells of convolvulus on hills

And Gwydion said to Math, when it was Spring: "Come now and let us make a wife for Llew." And so they broke broad boughs yet moist with dew,