But I still see the brazier glow
That April night, still feel the smoke
And stifling pungency of burning coke.
I'd thought: "A cottage in the hills,
North Wales, a cottage full of books,
Pictures and brass and cosy nooks
And comfortable broad window-sills,
Flowers in the garden, walls all white,
I'd live there peacefully, and dream and write."
But Willy said "No, Home's no good