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Llyfnant
Under the yellow-green of sunlit beech
between banks of bluebells' hazy blue
where supple crosiers of new fern reach
over verdant moss still damp with dew
a grassy lane runs beside the river
In the mystic quiet of a leafy dome
of grey bark ash, beech and mighty oak
a far cuckoo calls the dryads home
but we pass unseen by woodland folk
'til tylwyth teg w...
Monday 4th June 2018 9:31 am
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