OLD BRYNHYFRYD GARDEN
by Kenneth Morris
There's a quiet old enchantment of the heart that's calling, calling
From when Myrddin wielded magic powers, and Gwydion wove his tales;
And you'll hear it any April morn, when the apple-bloom is falling
In old Brynhyfryd Garden, in White, Wild Wales.
There's an Ousel in the Orchard there, and dear knows what he's telling;
But I think there's Welsh comes welling from his throat when no one's nigh,
And it's he that in Cilgwri in the olden days was dwelling,
And he saw the Quest of Cilhwch, and the old worlds die.