Im nauthon nan naur nu ngilith
O naid i gennin im,
O lyth e-barth a gwilwilith
Ne laer i vanner lim.
O lhiath a golas malen
Ne daint i lais gwennin,
Na chith ah anor celebren
A gwaewath or find nin
Im nauthon na naur vi vuil
Maven natha i ardhon
Ias tol i riw ben ethuil
Ir im u-genithon.
An nadath laew nar annan
I ulu im cennin.
Vin eryn ned ethuil ban
Nar ennas laegath gwin.
Im hevin nan naur a nauthon
O gwaith nedin lu iaur
A gwaith i cenitha ardhon
Ir istathon u aur.
Dan iar im nan naur peliel
Oh aurath ioer nauthon
Laston a thail etheliel
A lemmaid nan annon.
I sit beside the fire and think
Of all that I have seen,
Of meadow-flowers and b***erflies
In summers that have been;
Of yellow leaves and gossamer
In autumns that there were,
With morning mist and silver sun
And wind upon my hair.
I sit beside the fire and think
Of how the world will be
When winter comes without a spring
That I shall ever see.
For still there are so many things
That I have never seen.
In every wood in every spring
There is a different green.
I sit beside the fire and think
About people in old times
And people who will see a world
That I shall never know.
But all the while I sit and think
Of times there were before,
I listen for returning feet
And voices at the door.
O naid i gennin im,
O lyth e-barth a gwilwilith
Ne laer i vanner lim.
O lhiath a golas malen
Ne daint i lais gwennin,
Na chith ah anor celebren
A gwaewath or find nin
Im nauthon na naur vi vuil
Maven natha i ardhon
Ias tol i riw ben ethuil
Ir im u-genithon.
An nadath laew nar annan
I ulu im cennin.
Vin eryn ned ethuil ban
Nar ennas laegath gwin.
Im hevin nan naur a nauthon
O gwaith nedin lu iaur
A gwaith i cenitha ardhon
Ir istathon u aur.
Dan iar im nan naur peliel
Oh aurath ioer nauthon
Laston a thail etheliel
A lemmaid nan annon.
I sit beside the fire and think
Of all that I have seen,
Of meadow-flowers and b***erflies
In summers that have been;
Of yellow leaves and gossamer
In autumns that there were,
With morning mist and silver sun
And wind upon my hair.
I sit beside the fire and think
Of how the world will be
When winter comes without a spring
That I shall ever see.
For still there are so many things
That I have never seen.
In every wood in every spring
There is a different green.
I sit beside the fire and think
About people in old times
And people who will see a world
That I shall never know.
But all the while I sit and think
Of times there were before,
I listen for returning feet
And voices at the door.