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| There was an old fellow named Green, Who grew so abnormally lean, And flat, and compressed, That his back touched his chest, And sideways he couldn't be seen. There was a young lady of Lynn, Who was so excessively thin,... Read more of THIN PEOPLE at Free Jokes.ca | Informational.ca Privacy |
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Wales PoetryThat Had Been Converted Into A May-pole In The Town Of Llanidloes, In MontgomeryshireAh! birch tree, with the verdant locks, And reckless min... To The Lark "Sentinel of the morning light! Reveller of the... Translations From Miscellaneous Welsh Hymns Had I but the wings of a dove, To regions afar I'd repa... Ode To Cambria Cambria, I love thy genius bold; Thy dreadful rites, and... The Rose Of The Glen Although I've no money or treasure to give, No palace or c... To May the following and several other poems in this collection. ... Childe Harold "Oh Gwynedd, fast thy star declineth, Thy name is gone, t... The Mountain Galloway My tried and trusty mountain steed, Of Aberteivi's hardy... The Golden Goblet, In Imitation Of Gothe There was a king in Mon, {62} A true lover to his grave; ... To The Nightingale river of that name was born at Mold, in Flintshire, in the... The Eisteddfod, Strike the harp: awake the lay! Let Cambria's voice be h... The World And The Sea: A Comparison Like the world and its dread changes Is the ocean when it ... The Castles Of Wales Ye fortresses grey and gigantic I see on the hills of... The Shipwreck a Welsh Congregationalist Minister, and an eminent poet.... The Deluge * * * * * Whether to the east or west You go, wondr... The Vengeance Of Owain {96} Gruffydd ab Cynan, Prince of Gwynedd, or North Wales, and ... The Withered Leaf Dry the leaf above the stubble, Soon 'twill fall into ... Concerning The Divine Providence ... Farewell To Wales The voice of thy streams in my spirit I bear; Farewell; ... Llywarch Hen's Lament On Cynddylan Taliesin in the sixth century. He was engaged at the batt... |
The Circling Of The Mead HornsCategory: The Beautiful. Fill the blue horn, the blue buffalo horn: Natural is mead in the buffalo horn: As the cuckoo in spring, as the lark in the morn, So natural is mead in the buffalo horn. As the cup of the flower to the bee when he sips, Is the full cup of mead to the true Briton's lips: From the flower-cups of summer, on field and on tree, Our mead cups are filled by the vintager bee. Seithenyn ap Seithyn, the generous, the bold, Drinks the wine of the stranger from vessels of gold; But we from the horn, the blue silver-rimmed horn, Drink the ale and the mead in our fields that were born. The ale-froth is white, and the mead sparkles bright; They both smile apart, and with smiles they unite: The mead from the flower, and the ale from the corn, Smile, sparkle, and sing in the buffalo horn. The horn, the blue horn, cannot stand on its tip; Its path is right on from the hand to the lip; Though the bowl and the wine-cup our tables adorn, More natural the draught from the buffalo horn. But Seithenyn ap Seithyn, the generous, the bold, Drinks the bright-flowing wine from the far-gleaming gold, The wine, in the bowl by his lip that is worn, Shall be glorious as mead in the buffalo horn. The horns circle fast, but their fountains will last, As the stream passes ever, and never is past: Exhausted so quickly, replenished so soon, They wax and they wane like the horns of the moon. Fill high the blue horn, the blue buffalo horn; Fill high the long silver-rimmed buffalo horn: While the roof of the hall by our chorus is torn, Fill, fill to the brim, the deep silver-rimmed horn. Next: Dafydd Ap Gwilym To The White Gull Previous: The Lily And The Rose
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