I am a man now. Pass your hand over my brow. You can feel the place where the brains grow.

Sunlight 's a thing that needs a window Before it enter a dark room. Windows don't happen." So two old poets, Hunched at their beer in the low haze Of an inn parlour, while the talk ran Noisily by them, glib with prose.

I am a man now. Pass your hand over my brow. You can feel the place where the brains grow.

To live in Wales is to be conscious at dusk of the spilled blood that went into the making of the wild sky

I have been Merlin wandering in the woods Of a far country, where the winds waken Unnatural voices , my mind broken By a sudden acquaintance with man's rage.

somewhere within sight of the tree of poetry that is eternity wearing the green leaves of time .

I have nowhere to go. The swift satellites show The clock of my whole being is slow.