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Wales PoetryThe Flowers Of Spring
beautiful stanzas, from which the following translation ...
A Bridal Song
Wilt thou not waken, bride of May, While the flowers are...
Gwilym Glyn And Ruth Of Dyffryn
In the depth of yonder valley, Where the fields are bright...
To The Spring
Oh, come gentle spring, and visit the plain, Far scatte...
The Faithful Maiden
At the dawning of day on a morning in May, When the bi...
Translated By The Rev William Evans
God doth withhold no good from those Who meekly fear him ...
An Ode To The Thunder
his bardic name of Dafydd Ionawr, was born in the year 1...
Serjeant Parry, the eminent barrister) says: "The followin...
The World And The Sea: A Comparison
Like the world and its dread changes Is the ocean when it ...
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...
King of the mighty hills! thy crown of snow Thou reares...
* * * * * Whether to the east or west You go, wondr...
The Legend Of Trwst Llywelyn
Once upon a time, Llywelyn was returning from a great battl...
The Lament Op Llywarch Hen
The bright hours return, and the blue sky is ringing ...
So artless art thou, gentle ewe! Thy aspect kindles...
Twenty Third Psalm
My shepherd is the Lord above, Who ne'er will suffer me to...
the following and several other poems in this collection. ...
Farewell To Wales
The voice of thy streams in my spirit I bear; Farewell; ...
Thou swan, upon the waters bright, In lime-hued vest, like...
My Native Cot
The white cot where I spent my youth Is on yon lofty mo...
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