Gwalia Deserta - Part XXVI

by Idris Davies

The village of Fochriw grunts among the higher hills;

The dwellings of miners and pigeons and pigs

Cluster round the little grey war memorial.

The sun brings glitter to the long street roofs

And the crawling promontories of slag,

The sun makes the pitwheels to shine,

And praise be to the sun, the great unselfish sun,

The sun that shone on Plato's shoulders,

That dazzles with light the Taj Mahal.

The same sun shone on the first mineowner,

On the vigorous builder of this brown village,

And praise be to the impartial sun.

He had no hand in the bruising of valleys,

He had no line in the vigorous builder's plans,

He had no voice in the fixing of wages,

He was the blameless one.

And he smiles on the village this morning,

He smiles on the far-off grave of the vigorous builder,

On the ivied mansion of the first mineowner,

On the pigeon lofts and the Labour Exchange,

And he smiles as only the innocent can.

The village of Fochriw grunts among the higher hills;

The dwellings of miners and pigeons and pigs

Cluster round the little grey war memorial.

The sun brings glitter to the long street roofs

And the crawling promontories of slag,

The sun makes the pitwheels to shine,

And praise be to the sun, the great unselfish sun,

The sun that shone on Plato's shoulders,

That dazzles with light the Taj Mahal.

The same sun shone on the first mineowner,

On the vigorous builder of this brown village,

And praise be to the impartial sun.

He had no hand in the bruising of valleys,

He had no line in the vigorous builder's plans,

He had no voice in the fixing of wages,

He was the blameless one.

And he smiles on the village this morning,

He smiles on the far-off grave of the vigorous builder,

On the ivied mansion of the first mineowner,

On the pigeon lofts and the Labour Exchange,

And he smiles as only the innocent can.