Wales Poetry

Walter Sele
O'er Walter's bed no foot shall tread, Nor step unhallo...

The Poor Man's Grave
'Neath the yew tree's gloomy branches, Rears a mound ...

Dafydd Ap Gwilym To The White Gull
Bird that dwellest in the spray, Far from mountain woods a...

The Faithful Maiden
At the dawning of day on a morning in May, When the bi...

The Ewe
So artless art thou, gentle ewe! Thy aspect kindles...

Translations From Miscellaneous Welsh Hymns
Had I but the wings of a dove, To regions afar I'd repa...

The Flowers Of Spring
beautiful stanzas, from which the following translation ...

The World And The Sea: A Comparison
Like the world and its dread changes Is the ocean when it ...

Roderic's Lament
Farewell every mountain To memory dear, Each streamlet...

The Banks Of The Dee
One morning in May, when soft breezes were blowing O'er...

The Lament Op Llywarch Hen
The bright hours return, and the blue sky is ringing ...

Sad Died The Maiden
Sad died the Maiden! and heaven only knew The anguish s...

Taliesin's Prophecy
A voice from time departed, yet floats thy hills among,...

My Father-land
Land of the Cymry! thou art still, In rock and valley, str...

The Song Of The Fisherman's Wife
Restless wave! be still and quiet, Do not heed the win...

An Ode On The Death Of Hoel
of the sixth century. He was himself a soldier, and d...

From The Hymns Of The Rev William Williams, Pantycelyn
he inherited from his ancestors, was born in the parish of...

To May
the following and several other poems in this collection. ...

The Sick Man's Dream
Dans le solitaire bourgade, Revant a ses maux triste...

An Address To The Summer
of Llanbadarn Fawr, Cardiganshire, and was born about ...

Glan Geirionydd

Category: The Sentimental.

.

One time upon a summer day
I saunter'd on the shore
Of swift Geirionydd's waters blue,
Where oft I walked before
In youth's bright season gone,
And spent life's happiest morn
In drawing from its crystal waves
The trout beneath the thorn,
When every thought within my breast
Was light as solar ray,
Enjoying every pastime dear
Throughout the livelong day.

The breeze would soften on the lake,
Unruffled be its deep,
And all surrounding nature be
As calm as silent sleep,
Except the raven's dismal shriek
Upon the lofty spray,
And bleat of sheep beside the bush
Where light their lambkins play,
And noise made by the busy mill
Upon the river shore,
With cuckoo's song perch'd in the ash
To show that winter's o'er.

The impressive scene would rather tend
To nurse reflection deep,
Than cast the gay and sprightly fly
Beneath the rocky steep;
'Twould fill my spirit now subdued
With sober earnest thought,
Of other days, and other things,
My youthful hands had wrought;
The tears would spring into my eyes,
My heart with heaving fill,
To think of all that I had been,
And all that I am still.

* * * * *

The sober stillness would beget
Thoughts of departed friends,
Who not long since companions were
Upon the river's bends;
And soon will come the sombre day
When I shall meet their doom,
And 'stead of fishing by the lake,
I shall be in the tomb.
Some brother bard may chance to stray
And ask for Ieuan E'an?--
"Geirionydd lake is still the same,
But here no Ieuan's seen."





Next: The Mother To Her Child After Its Father's Death
Previous: The Mountain Galloway

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