<html xmlns:tei="http://www.tei-c.org/ns/1.0"><body><h1 align="" class="head">To a Son of Wales<br xmlns:exist="http://exist.sourceforge.net/NS/exist" xmlns:html="http://www.w3.org/TR/REC-html40"/> [<em>Owen Pritchard, Esq., M.D.</em>]</h1><div class="stanza"><p class="line">SINCE first I saw your mountains long ago,</p><p class="line" style="text-indent:%">Dark behind Conway's or Carnarvon's hold,</p><p class="line">I have watched the Alps put on their evening gold,</p><p class="line">And morning kindle peaks of Afric snow;</p><p class="line">I have crossed Niagara's flood and Delaware's flow,</p><p class="line">And loitered 'midst Italian vinelands old,</p><p class="line">And visited isles which the far deeps enfold,</p><p class="line">Where Spain is ashes and a sunset-glow.</p><p class="line">But lovely as in youth are yet to me</p><p class="line">Mona's bleak fields and Glaslyn's torrent wave;</p><p class="line">And dearer now than ever their wild charm,</p><p class="line">When hardy Wales pours forth her children free,</p><p class="line">Hungering to aid her ancient Conqueror's arm</p><p class="line">Lest Freedom's self reel to a blood-red grave.</p></div></body></html> · Great War