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WHEN soft September brings again To yonder gorse its golden glow, And Snowdon sends its autumn rain To bid thy current livelier flow; Amid that ashen foliage light When scarlet beads are glistering bright, While alder boughs unchanged are seen In summer livery of green; When clouds before the cooler breeze Are flying, white and large; with these Returning, so may I return, And find thee changeless, Pont-y-wern. |