A DEE AM OF SPRITvTG TIME AT 

 PEN^-Y-BOI^T. 



BY GEORGE DAVIES. 



ARTH his ermine mantle changes, 

 For the emerald of spring ; 

 Zephyr o'er the moorland ranges, 

 On his balmy-scented wing ; 



Blooms the willow by the river. 

 Early haunt of busy bees ; 



Flows the brooklet singing ever, 

 'Neath the tall o'er-hanging trees. 



Dappled kine are in the meadows, 



Lambs are frisking on the hills ; 

 Pleasant are the lights and shadows, 



Sweet the sound of mountain rills : 

 Birds sing out of wood and bower. 



Musical is earth and air ; 

 Nature moves with magic power. 



Bids us throw aside our care ; 



* Fen-y-bont —The Fishing-grouml of the Association, on the Dee. 



