A secret lies within this heart ; the hills
Conceal the knowledge with self-conscious air,
As an old man remembers from his youth
That which he will not tell. Its presence fills
The valley which of Mona’s dales so fair
Is fairest ; hidden lies its bitter truth.
The vital need of man so surely kills
Some other form of life. He cannot spare,
But must slay beauty and with little ruth
When thirst and daily bread write codicils.
Ravished are glens of stately elm and oak,
Beech, ash, and sycamore ; and pastoral fields
To the death-kiss of water have to yield :
Homesteads were sacrificed when hunger spoke !
Mona’s Herald 28.3.61