Old Welsh Prose

He who knows the way of beasts and birds,

who can distinguish them by song and cry,

Who knows the bright quicksilver life in streams,

the courses the stars take through the sky,

May never have lain hands to books,

yet he Is sharing wisdom with infinity........

He who works with sensitive deft hands

at any woodcraft will absorb the rain,

The sunlight and the starlight and the dew

that entered in the making of it's grain;

He should grow tall and straight and clean and good

who daily breathes the essences of wood.

He who finds companionship in rocks,

and comfort in the touch of vine and leaf,

who climbs a hill for joy and shouts a song,

Who loves the feel of wind,

will know no grief;

No lonliness that ever grows too great;

For he will never be quite desolate...........

He shares,who is companioned long with these,

All ancient wisdoms and philosophies.

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