Broken stones belie a
place of princely homage,
once whole walls encircled
by the campfires of the
Welsh warbands and their lords,
come through the ridgeline roads
and secret passes to this
verdant valley to be feal.
But now no festivals beckon
nor bonfire beacon,
for all has become a
rugged spectacle for sheep,
the calls of their shepherds
echoing from the hillsides.
