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Wales PoetryThe Dawn
Streaking the mantle of deep night The rays of light ...
My Native Cot
The white cot where I spent my youth Is on yon lofty mo...
The Bard's Long-tried Affection For Morfydd
All my lifetime I have been Bard to Morfydd, "golden m...
. One time upon a summer day I saunter'd on the shor...
That Had Been Converted Into A May-pole In The Town Of Llanidloes, In Montgomeryshire
Ah! birch tree, with the verdant locks, And reckless min...
The Flowers Of Spring
beautiful stanzas, from which the following translation ...
Translations From Miscellaneous Welsh Hymns
Had I but the wings of a dove, To regions afar I'd repa...
To The Spring
Oh, come gentle spring, and visit the plain, Far scatte...
My Native Land
My soul is sad, my spirit fails, And sickness in my he...
Gentle Woman! thou most perfect Work of the Divine Arc...
Llywarch Hen's Lament On Cynddylan
Taliesin in the sixth century. He was engaged at the batt...
The Banks Of The Dee
One morning in May, when soft breezes were blowing O'er...
The Poor Man's Grave
'Neath the yew tree's gloomy branches, Rears a mound ...
Ode To Cambria
Cambria, I love thy genius bold; Thy dreadful rites, and...
The Praise And Commendation Of A Good Woman
As a wise child excells the sceptr'd fool Who of conceit a...
An Ode To The Thunder
his bardic name of Dafydd Ionawr, was born in the year 1...
Concerning The Divine Providence
the following and several other poems in this collection. ...
Thou swan, upon the waters bright, In lime-hued vest, like...
Gwilym Glyn And Ruth Of Dyffryn
In the depth of yonder valley, Where the fields are bright...
Category: The Patriotic.
Land of the Cymry! thou art still,
In rock and valley, stream and hill,
As wild and grand;
As thou hast been in days of yore,
As thou hast ever been before,
As thou shalt be for evermore,
Where are the bards, like thine, who've sung
The warrior's praise? the harp hath strung,
With mighty hand?
Made chords of magic sound arise,
That flung their echoes through the skies,
And gained the fame that never dies,
And where are warriors like thine own,
Who in the battle's front have shown
So firm a stand?
Who fought against the Romans' skill,
"The conquerors of the world," until
They found thou wert "invincible,"
And where are hills like thine, or where
Are vales so sweet, or scenes so fair,
Such praise command?
There towering Snowdon, first in height,
Or Cader Idris, dreary sight,
And lonely Clwyd? Oh! how bright,
Oh! how I love thee, though I mourn
That cold neglect should on thee turn,
Thy name to brand;
And oft the scalding tear will start
Raining its dew-drops from the heart,
To think how far we are apart,
And when my days are almost done,
And, faltering on, I've nearly run
Life's dreary sand;
Still, still my fainting breath shall be
Bestowed upon thy memory,
My soul shall wing its way to thee,
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