Scatters the rear of darkness thin,
And to the stack or the barn door
Stoutly struts his dames before.
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RGB: 33 52 72
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RGB: 49 69 83
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RGB: 20 46 69
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RGB: 70 91 111
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RGB: 86 107 125
I spoke a tongue that was passed on
To me in the place I happened to be,
A place huddled between grey walls
Of cloud for at least half the year.My word for heaven was not yours.
The word for hell had a sharp edge
Put on it by the hand of the wind
Honing, honing with a shrill sound
Day and night. Nothing that Glyn Dwr
Knew was armour against the rain's
Missiles. What was descent from him?