Form: Cyhydedd Fer Sonnet
In dreamland where my heart is free
there is a sweeping willow tree.
Beneath its boughs I often sit
soul-deep in passionate spirit.
There I hear my nightingale sing
and my heart takes flight on love's wing.
And no distance can stand between
a bard and her poetic quean.
Oh, if only I should not wake
or hear the alarm's rumbling quake.
In dreams where love can be so real,
so vibrant, yet remains genteel.
For hearts have no reason to weep
in the magical world of sleep