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| A LARGE, well established, Canadian lumber camp advertised that they were looking for a good lumberjack. The very next day, a skinny little guy showed up at the camp with his axe, and knocked on the head lumberjacks' door. The head lumberjack too... Read more of The lumberjack at Free Jokes.ca | Informational Privacy |
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Wales PoetryThe Immovable Covenantthe Welsh of Mr. H. Hughes, was a Minister in the Baptist ... Song Of The Foster-son, Love I got a foster-son, whose name was Love, From one endu... Twenty Third Psalm My shepherd is the Lord above, Who ne'er will suffer me to... An Ode On The Death Of Hoel of the sixth century. He was himself a soldier, and d... An Address To The Summer of Llanbadarn Fawr, Cardiganshire, and was born about ... To May the following and several other poems in this collection. ... The Withered Leaf Dry the leaf above the stubble, Soon 'twill fall into ... The Rose Of Llan Meilen Sweet Rose of Llan Meilen! you bid me forget That ever i... Dafydd Ap Gwilym's Address To Morfydd After She Married His Rival Too long I've loved the fickle maid, My love is turned to ... Roderic's Lament Farewell every mountain To memory dear, Each streamlet... Pennillion Cymry, and was much practised in the houses of the Welsh g... The Lament Op Llywarch Hen The bright hours return, and the blue sky is ringing ... The Swan Thou swan, upon the waters bright, In lime-hued vest, like... May And November Sweet May, ever welcome! the palace of leaves Thy hand for... The Ewe So artless art thou, gentle ewe! Thy aspect kindles... An Ode To The Thunder his bardic name of Dafydd Ionawr, was born in the year 1... The Sick Man's Dream Dans le solitaire bourgade, Revant a ses maux triste... The Faithful Maiden At the dawning of day on a morning in May, When the bi... The Battle Of Gwenystrad contemporary of Aneurin in the sixth century. He appe... Childe Harold "Oh Gwynedd, fast thy star declineth, Thy name is gone, t... |
My Native CotCategory: The Sentimental. The white cot where I spent my youth Is on yon lofty mountain side, The stream which flowed beside the door Adown the mossy slope doth glide; The holly tree that hid one end Is shaken by the moaning wind, Like as it was in days of yore When 'neath its boughs I shade did find. Clear is the sky of morning tide, Bright is the season time of youth, Before the mid-day clouds appear, And fell deceit obliterates truth; Black tempest in the evening lowers, The rain descends with whirlwind force, And long ere midnight's hour nears Full is the heart of deep remorse. Where are my old companions dear, Who in those days with me did play? The green graves in the parish yard Will soon the mournful answer say: Farewell therefore ye pleasures light, Which in my youth I did enjoy, Dark evening's come with all its trials, And these the bliss of life destroy. Next: Under The Orchard Tree Previous: The Rose Of Llan Meilen
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