On Leaving London for Wales
Hail to thee, Cambria! for the unfettered wind Which from thy wilds even now methinks I feel, Chasing the clouds that roll in wrath behind,...
This is a poetry & verse.
Hail to thee, Cambria! for the unfettered wind Which from thy wilds even now methinks I feel, Chasing the clouds that roll in wrath behind, And tightening the soul's laxest nerves to steel; True mountain Liberty alone may heal The pain which Custom's obduracies bring, And he who dares in fancy even to steal One draught from Snowdon's ever sacred spring Blots out the unholiest rede of worldly witnessing.…
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