We've nothing vast to offer you, no deserts
Except the waste of thought
Forming from mind erosion;
No canyons where the pterodactyl's wing
Falls like a shadow.
the hills are fine, of course,
Bearded with water to suggest age
And pocked with cavarns,
One being Arthur's dormitory;
He and his knights are the bright ore
That seams our history,
But shame has kept them late in bed.
Back to R. S. Thomas
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Comments1"A Welshman to any Tourist" hits me with its raw honesty. It seems to depict a Wales that's proud, yet humble. The line, "We've nothing vast to offer you, no deserts except the waste of thought" particularly resonates with me. It paints a nostalgic image of a land rich in heritage, if not in physical grandeur.