Joseph Jacobs There was once upon a time a poor widow who had an only son named Jack, and a cow named Milky-white. And all they had to live on was the milk the cow gave every morning, which they carried to the market and sold. But one morn... Read more of JACK AND THE BEANSTALK at Children Stories.caInformational Site Network Informational
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Wales Poetry

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

The Mother To Her Child After Its Father's Death
My gentle child, thou dost not know Why still on thee ...

The Lily And The Rose
Once I saw two flowers blossom In a garden 'neath the h...

To The Nightingale
river of that name was born at Mold, in Flintshire, in the...

Tribanau
Serjeant Parry, the eminent barrister) says: "The followin...

The Sick Man's Dream
Dans le solitaire bourgade, Revant a ses maux triste...

Woman
Gentle Woman! thou most perfect Work of the Divine Arc...

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

Song Of The Foster-son, Love
I got a foster-son, whose name was Love, From one endu...

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

Ode To Cambria
Cambria, I love thy genius bold; Thy dreadful rites, and...

Concerning The Divine Providence
...

The Battle Of Gwenystrad
contemporary of Aneurin in the sixth century. He appe...

Taliesin's Prophecy
A voice from time departed, yet floats thy hills among,...

The Hall Of Cynddylan
The Hall of Cynddylan is gloomy to-night, I weep, for th...

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

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...

Llywarch Hen's Lament On Cynddylan
Taliesin in the sixth century. He was engaged at the batt...

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

The Farmer's Prayer
poems of the "Good Vicar Prichard of Llandovery" would be ...



Short Is The Life Of Man






Category: The Religious.

Man's life, like any weaver's shuttle, flies,
Or, like a tender flow'ret, droops and dies,
Or, like a race, it ends without delay,
Or, like a vapour, vanishes away,

Or, like a candle, in each moment wastes,
Or, like a packet under sail, it hastes,
Or, like a courier, travels very fast,
Or, like the shadow of a cloud, 'tis past.

Strong is our foe, but very weak the fort,
Our death is certain, and our time is short;
But as the hour of death's a secret still,
Let us be ready, come He when he will.





Next: Concerning The Divine Providence

Previous: Twenty Third Psalm



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