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Who long for rest, who look for pleasure
Away from counter, court, or school
O where live well your lease of leisure
But here at, here at Penmaen Pool?
You’ll dare the Alp? You’ll dart the skiff?
Each sport has here its tackle and tool:
Come, plant the staff by Cadair cliff;
Come, swing the scull on Penmaen Pool
What‘s yonder? – Grizzled Dyphwys dim:
The triple-hummocked Giantš stool
Hoar messmate, hobs and nobs with him
To halve the bowl of Penmaen Pool.
And all the lanscape under survey
At transquil turns, by nature’s rule
Rides repeated topsyturvy
In frank, in fairy Penmaen Pool.
And Chsarles’s Wain, the wondrous seven
And sheep-flock clouds like worlds of wool
For all they shine so, high in heaven
Shew brighter shaken in Penmaen Pool.
The Mawddach, how she trips! Though throttled
If floodtide teeming thrills her full
And mazy sands all water-wattled
Waylayx her at ebb, past Penmaen Pool.
But what’s to see in stormy weather
When grey showers gather and gusts are cool?
Why raindrop-roundels looped together
That lace the face of Penmaen Pool.
Tehn even in weariest wintry hour
Of New Year’s month or surly Yule
Furred snows, charged tuft above tuft, tower
From darksome darksome Penmaen Pool.
And ever, if bound here hardest home
You’ve parlour-pasttime left and (who’ll Not hnou rit?) ale like goldy foam
That frocks ano ar in Penamen Pool.
Then comer who pine for peace or pleasure
Away from counter, court, or schoold
Spend here your measure of time and treasure
Anad taste the treats of Penmaen Pool.

Text přidal roman59

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