Twmbarlwm, also known as “The Tump” or “The Pimple”, is a 1,375 ft mountain that can be viewed from my home town of Newport, and the surrounding areas. Near the summit is an approximately 154ft bump, which is speculated to have been the site for a Norman Motte and Bailey Castle, built upon an Iron Age or late Bronze Age hill fort, or perhaps of mediaeval contruction.
There is nothing quite like standing on top of The Pimple and viewing the panoramic blanket of South Wales and the Bristol Channel as the wind whips about you.
Can I forget the sweet days that have gone / When poetry first began to stir my blood
And from the hills of Gwent I saw / The earth torn in two by Severn’s silver flood
—W. H. Davies, writing of a view from Twmbarlwm
And from the hills of Gwent I saw / The earth torn in two by Severn’s silver flood
—W. H. Davies, writing of a view from Twmbarlwm
William Henry Davies (1871-1940), aka “Supertramp” was a Newport-born poet who spent a significant part of his life tramping in the UK and US, but became one of the most popular poets of his time. I was surprised to learn that he is also responsible for these popular poems:
What is this life if, full of care / We have no time to stand and stare?
No time to stand beneath the boughs / And stare as long as sheep or cows.
No time to see, when woods we pass / Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.
No time to see, in broad daylight / Streams full of stars, like skies at night.
No time to turn at Beauty’s glance / And watch her feet, how they can dance.
No time to wait till her mouth can / Enrich that smile her eyes began.
A poor life this is if, full of care / We have no time to stand and stare.
No time to stand beneath the boughs / And stare as long as sheep or cows.
No time to see, when woods we pass / Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.
No time to see, in broad daylight / Streams full of stars, like skies at night.
No time to turn at Beauty’s glance / And watch her feet, how they can dance.
No time to wait till her mouth can / Enrich that smile her eyes began.
A poor life this is if, full of care / We have no time to stand and stare.
and
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone / Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum / Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come…
…The stars are not wanted now: put out every one / Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood / For nothing now can ever come to any good.
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum / Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come…
…The stars are not wanted now: put out every one / Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood / For nothing now can ever come to any good.
