Hiraedd

((To Rhodry of Aberwyn.))

Life is but a fancy
And love is just a death.
When all is come to ending
And birth has come to rest.

The northern lights are at their end
Their beauty shines no more.
All sorrows have been buried
So that joy shall never care.

A foul hiraedd that eats away
Allows a strangled cry.
For love is dead and all is lost
At this, the end of times.

As now the end is ending
Beginning once again.
So love returns to empty graves
And lights the world of men.