Hedd Wyn was a Welsh-language poet who was killed on the second day of the Battle of Passchendaele during World War I. He was posthumously awarded the bard’s chair at the 1917 National Eisteddfod.

The magic of Hedd’s aspiration of youth….
an elixir only the young can truly taste ….
but this old man can. 
When a late summer breeze blows from the south and west,
catch, in the very air itself, a whiff of a hint of that long lost summer day.
When all that was, faded far-far away.
Now it will soon be September, when all the musty smells of school return,
As chestnut trees drop their brown, hard nuts for boys to battle on a string
And all the golden leaves of stormy autumn gather in the gutters
And where old ghosts blink back the tears of the years
And retreat from this world which is one long, bare winter night
Without hope, or respite.