|Home - Collection of Stories - Famous Stories - Short Stories - Wales Poetry - Yiddish Tales|
Wales PoetryTo May
the following and several other poems in this collection. ...
The Fairy's Song
"Heavens defend me from that Welsh fairy!"--SHAKSPEARE. ...
Short Is The Life Of Man
Man's life, like any weaver's shuttle, flies, Or, like a t...
An Address To The Summer
of Llanbadarn Fawr, Cardiganshire, and was born about ...
The Rose Of The Glen
Although I've no money or treasure to give, No palace or c...
The Holly Grove
Sweet holly grove, that soarest A woodland fort, an armed ...
My Native Land
My soul is sad, my spirit fails, And sickness in my he...
The Cuckoo's Tale
Hail, bird of sweet melody, heav'n is thy home; With the...
Gwilym Glyn And Ruth Of Dyffryn
In the depth of yonder valley, Where the fields are bright...
The Flowers Of Spring
beautiful stanzas, from which the following translation ...
The Mother To Her Child After Its Father's Death
My gentle child, thou dost not know Why still on thee ...
* * * * * Whether to the east or west You go, wondr...
My Native Cot
The white cot where I spent my youth Is on yon lofty mo...
A voice from time departed, yet floats thy hills among,...
The Sick Man's Dream
Dans le solitaire bourgade, Revant a ses maux triste...
The World And The Sea: A Comparison
Like the world and its dread changes Is the ocean when it ...
The Praise And Commendation Of A Good Woman
As a wise child excells the sceptr'd fool Who of conceit a...
Translated By The Rev William Evans
God doth withhold no good from those Who meekly fear him ...
From The Hymns Of The Rev William Williams, Pantycelyn
he inherited from his ancestors, was born in the parish of...
Song Of The Foster-son, Love
I got a foster-son, whose name was Love, From one endu...
Dafydd Ap Gwilym's Address To Morfydd After She Married His Rival
Category: The Religious.
Too long I've loved the fickle maid,
My love is turned to grief and pain;
In vain delusive hopes I stray'd,
Through days that ne'er will dawn again;
And she, in beauty like the dawn,
From me has now her heart withdrawn!
A constant suitor--on her ear
My sweetest melodies I pour'd;
Where'er she wander'd I was near;
For her whose face my soul ador'd
My wealth I madly spent in wine,
And gorgeous jewels of the mine.
I deck'd her arms with lovely chains,
With bracelets wove of slender gold;
I sang her charms in varied strains,
Her praise to every minstrel told:
The bards of distant Keri know
That she is spotless as the snow.
These proofs of love I hoped might bind
My Morfydd to be ever true:
Alas! to deep despair consign'd,
My bosom's blighted hopes I rue,
And the base craft that gave her charms,
Oh, anguish! to another's arms!
Next: From The Hymns Of The Rev William Williams, Pantycelyn
Previous: The Cuckoo's Tale