St Govan by A.G. Prys Jones HMI 1920

St Govan he built him a cell By the side of the Pembroke Sea,
And there as the crannied sea-gulls dwell In a tiny, secret citadel
He sighed for eternity.
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St 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.
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St Govan still lies in his cell But his soul, long since, is free, And one may wonder – who can tell-If good St Govan likes Heaven as well As his cell by that sounding sea.
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