Saint Govan

In poetry class this morning we all had to read out some of our favourite verse. I choose 'The Journey of the Magi' by T.S Elliot for the imagery it creates, especially in verse three, but one student choose something entirely different to the rest of us. He chose 'Saint Govan' by A.G.Prys.



This was of particular interest to me, as my cousin W and I, had been to look at Saint Govan's Chaple (The cell referred to in the poem) back in September when we had our break in Pembrokeshire. I didn't know this piece of verse existed until this morning, but it has already become one of my favourite pieces. Not a great work, like T.S Elliot, Byron and Shelly, but appeals to ordinary folk like myself.

Saint Govan

by

A.G. Prys- Jones

Saint Govan, he built him a cell

by the side of the Pembroke sea,
and there, as the crannied seagulls dwell

in a tiny secret citadel,

he sighed for eternity.

Saint Govan, he built him a cell

between the wild sky and the sea,

where the sunsets redden the rolling swell

and brooding splendour has thrown her spell

on valley and moorland lea.

Saint Govan still lies in his cell

But his soul, long since, is free

and one may wonder and who can tell

if good Saint Govan likes heaven as well

as his cell by the sounding sea.

I think this is a nice little verse, as I said previously, not up there with the greats, but nice and simple, especially if you know the place! This will always conjure up images of a cloudy September morning to me, on the side of a cliff in Pembrokeshire, with my cousin awaiting my return at the top.