In the dusk of the evening, when shadows grow long, The world wraps in silence, an echoed song; The whisper of wind through the hedgerow blows, Telling tales of the forest, where the wild rose grows.

A flicker of flame from the hearth of the night, Under stars that have gathered, silver and white. In the cradle of twilight, my heart takes its flight, Breathing deep of the magic where dark meets the light.

• David Jones