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| A becomes an before a vowel or before h mute for the sake of euphony or agreeable sound to the ear. An apple, an orange, an heir, an honor, etc. STYLE It is the object of every writer to put his thoughts into as effective f... Read more of A OR AN at Speaking Writing.com | Informational.ca Privacy |
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Wales PoetryMay And NovemberSweet May, ever welcome! the palace of leaves Thy hand for... The Farmer's Prayer poems of the "Good Vicar Prichard of Llandovery" would be ... The Castles Of Wales Ye fortresses grey and gigantic I see on the hills of... Childe Harold "Oh Gwynedd, fast thy star declineth, Thy name is gone, t... Song Of The Foster-son, Love I got a foster-son, whose name was Love, From one endu... Twenty Third Psalm My shepherd is the Lord above, Who ne'er will suffer me to... Gwilym Glyn And Ruth Of Dyffryn In the depth of yonder valley, Where the fields are bright... An Address To The Summer of Llanbadarn Fawr, Cardiganshire, and was born about ... The Ewe So artless art thou, gentle ewe! Thy aspect kindles... The Song Of The Fisherman's Wife Restless wave! be still and quiet, Do not heed the win... The Swan Thou swan, upon the waters bright, In lime-hued vest, like... Translations From Miscellaneous Welsh Hymns Had I but the wings of a dove, To regions afar I'd repa... An Ode On The Death Of Hoel of the sixth century. He was himself a soldier, and d... Walter Sele O'er Walter's bed no foot shall tread, Nor step unhallo... The Mountain Galloway My tried and trusty mountain steed, Of Aberteivi's hardy... Translated By The Rev William Evans God doth withhold no good from those Who meekly fear him ... Farewell To Wales The voice of thy streams in my spirit I bear; Farewell; ... The Fairy's Song "Heavens defend me from that Welsh fairy!"--SHAKSPEARE. ... The Rose Of Llan Meilen Sweet Rose of Llan Meilen! you bid me forget That ever i... The Rose Of The Glen Although I've no money or treasure to give, No palace or c... |
The Cuckoo's TaleCategory: The Sentimental. Hail, bird of sweet melody, heav'n is thy home; With the tidings of summer thy bright pinions roam-- The summer that thickens with foliage the glade, And lures to the woodland the poet and maid. Sweet as "sack," gentle bird, is thy beautiful voice, In thy accents the lover must ever rejoice: Oh! tell me at once, in thy musical lay, Where tarries the girl whose behest I obey. "Poor bard," said the cuckoo, "what anguish and pain Hast thou stored for thyself, all thy cares are in vain, All hopes of the maid thou awaitest resign, She has wedded another, and ne'er can be thine." "For the tale thou hast told"--to the cuckoo I cried, "For thus singing to me of my beautiful bride These strains of thy malice--may winter appear And dim the sun's light--stay the summer's career; With frost all the leaves of the forest boughs fill, And wither the woods with his desolate chill, And with cold in the midst of thy own forest spray, Take thy life and thy song, foolish cuckoo, away!" Next: Dafydd Ap Gwilym's Address To Morfydd After She Married His Rival Previous: May And November
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