Welsh writing in English

In my craft or sullen art
Exercised in the still night
When only the moon rages
And the lovers lie abed: (archaic) in bedabed
With all their griefs in their arms,
I labour by singing light
Not for ambition or bread
Or the strut and trade of charms
On the ivory stages
But for the common wages
Of their most secret heart.

Not for the proud man apart
From the raging moon I write
On these spindrift: spray that is blown from the crests of wavesspindrift pages
Nor for the towering dead
With their nightingales and psalm: a sacred song, especially one from the Book of Psalms in the Old Testamentpsalms
But for the lovers, their arms
Round the griefs of the ages,
Who pay no praise or wages
Nor heed my craft or art.