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letra de a bay in anglesey - madeleine dring

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the sleepy sound of a tea-time tide
slaps at the rocks the sun has dried

too lazy, almost, to sink and lift
round low peninsulas pink with thrift

the water, enlarging sh-lls and sand
grows greener emerald out from land

and brown over shadowy shelves below
the waving forests of seaweed show

here at my feet in the short cliff gr-ss
are sh-lls, dried bladderwrack, broken gl-ss

pale blue squills and yellow rock roses
the next low ridge that we climb discloses

one more field for the sheep to graze
while, scarcely seen on this hottest of days

far to the eastward, over there
snowdon rises in pearl-grey air

multiple lark-song, whispering bents
the thymy, turfy and salty scents

and filling in, brimming in, sparkling and free
the sweet susurration of incoming sea

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