Ronald Stuart Thomas

(1913 - 2000 / Cardiff / Wales)

A Welshman to any Tourist


We've nothing vast to offer you, no deserts
Except the waste of thought
Forming from mind erosion;
No canyons where the pterodactyl's wing
Falls like a shadow.
the hills are fine, of course,
Bearded with water to suggest age
And pocked with cavarns,
One being Arthur's dormitory;
He and his knights are the bright ore
That seams our history,
But shame has kept them late in bed.

Submitted: Friday, January 03, 2003

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Comments about this poem (A Welshman to any Tourist by Ronald Stuart Thomas )

  • Rookie - 18 Points Ian Fraser (11/27/2011 12:33:00 AM)

    Dificult for Americans - a big nation - to appreciate the sentiments of someone who belongs to a small one - but they should try. Especially when the writer can teach what illusions are formed when we refer to a mighty but apocryphal past. (Report) Reply

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