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Wales Poetry

The Fairy's Song
"Heavens defend me from that Welsh fairy!"--SHAKSPEARE. ...

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

Snowdon
King of the mighty hills! thy crown of snow Thou reares...

Farewell To Wales
The voice of thy streams in my spirit I bear; Farewell; ...

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

Gwilym Glyn And Ruth Of Dyffryn
In the depth of yonder valley, Where the fields are bright...

Song To Arvon
by the Rev. Evan Evans, a Clergyman of the Church of Eng...

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

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

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

The Cuckoo's Tale
Hail, bird of sweet melody, heav'n is thy home; With the...

The Rose Of The Glen
Although I've no money or treasure to give, No palace or c...

To The Spring
Oh, come gentle spring, and visit the plain, Far scatte...

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

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 ...

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...

My Native Cot
The white cot where I spent my youth Is on yon lofty mo...

Dafydd Ap Gwilym's Invocation To The Summer To Visit Glamorganshire,
Where he spent many happy years at the hospitable mansion o...

To The Lark
"Sentinel of the morning light! Reveller of the...

The Lord Of Clas
The Lord of Clas to his hunting is gone, Over plain and...



My Native Cot






Category: 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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