The Webmistress discovered a poem by A. G. Prys-Jones that contains a wonderful description of the scenery in this beautiful part of a magical land.

This poem is from Stewart Williams (ed.), Glamorgan Historian, vol. I (Cowbridge: D. Brown and Sons, 1963).  No copyright infringement is intended.

The purple tapestries of dusk
Hung glittering and glowing in the high
Broad marches of the vivid evening sky:
And all the Vale like soft, blue velvet lay
In folded distances.  Deep inland from the sea
To the bare uplands where the brown hills ride
Above the mists of autumn like tall ships,
Each field, each hedge, each gracious tree
Stood etched, it seemed for ever, in that air
Of stilled, ecstatic eventide . . .

As if some wandering angel, unaware,
Had left a glimpse of the ultimate Kingdom there
In final, tranquil beauty, and set free
To pierce the dimness of our mortal sight,
A vision of our immortality:
A facet of infinity to light
The blest perfection which the mystics know,
Holy as silence of new-fallen snow,
Serene and flawless as a precious gem.

And through the glowing dusk, an early star
Gave token of that realm where all things move
In ageless wisdom and immortal love:
Where death and sorrow and the year's decay
Throw no chill shadows on eternal day,
Where men grown cold in wintry journeying
Walk in the warm, green solace of the Spring.