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Wales Poetry

Childe Harold
"Oh Gwynedd, fast thy star declineth, Thy name is gone, t...

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

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

The Swan
Thou swan, upon the waters bright, In lime-hued vest, like...

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

The Circling Of The Mead Horns
Fill the blue horn, the blue buffalo horn: Natural is mead...

Glan Geirionydd
. One time upon a summer day I saunter'd on the shor...

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

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

The Mountain Galloway
My tried and trusty mountain steed, Of Aberteivi's hardy...

Short Is The Life Of Man
Man's life, like any weaver's shuttle, flies, Or, like a t...

The Praise And Commendation Of A Good Woman
As a wise child excells the sceptr'd fool Who of conceit a...

May And November
Sweet May, ever welcome! the palace of leaves Thy hand for...

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

Pennillion
Cymry, and was much practised in the houses of the Welsh g...

The Monarchy Of Britain
Sons of the Fair Isle! forget not the time, Ere spoilers h...

The Death Of Owain
Lo! the youth, in mind a man, Daring in the battle's v...

My Native Land
My soul is sad, my spirit fails, And sickness in my he...

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

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



Sad Died The Maiden






Category: The Sentimental.

Sad died the Maiden! and heaven only knew
The anguish she felt in expiring,
The moonbeams were weeping the evening dew
When the life of the Maiden was sinking.

Sad died the Maiden! beside the fast door,
With her head resting low on the flagging,
And the raindrops froze as they fell in store
On a bosom that lately was bleeding.

She died on the sill of her father's dear home,
From which he had forc'd her to wander,
While her clear white hands were trying to roam
In search of the latch and warm shelter.

* * * * *

She died! and her end will for ever reveal
A father devoid of affection,
While her green grave will always testify well
To the strength of love and devotion.





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