Poetry is one of my loves.
LATE AUTUMN VISIT TO WERN FACH.
Are you not sad, house,
alone in the winter?
Don’t you long for a voice to rouse
you out of your lonely stupor?
Or are the sheep that stand in your lee
enough to keep you company?
Suppose one came in the dead of winter
and brought new candles and lit the fire;
Would you be glad to wake from your slumber,
or only stir with a sullen ire,
and silence keep?
The wind and the sky have wrapped you round.
Shall we sleep now, house?
The fire is fading, the mountain is dark,
the wind outside is the only sound,
And I would sleep.