Wales Poetry

The Withered Leaf
Dry the leaf above the stubble, Soon 'twill fall into ...

From The Hymns Of The Rev William Williams, Pantycelyn
he inherited from his ancestors, was born in the parish of...

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

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

The Legend Of Trwst Llywelyn
Once upon a time, Llywelyn was returning from a great battl...

The Deluge
* * * * * Whether to the east or west You go, wondr...

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

The Day Of Judgment
was a native of Anglesea, and entered the Welsh Church...

Snowdon
King of the mighty hills! thy crown of snow Thou reares...

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

The Fairy's Song
"Heavens defend me from that Welsh fairy!"--SHAKSPEARE. ...

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

The Grove Of Broom
The girl of nobler loveliness Than countess decked in go...

The Golden Goblet, In Imitation Of Gothe
There was a king in Mon, {62} A true lover to his grave; ...

Dafydd Ap Gwilym To The White Gull
Bird that dwellest in the spray, Far from mountain woods a...

The Immovable Covenant
the Welsh of Mr. H. Hughes, was a Minister in the Baptist ...

The Shipwreck
a Welsh Congregationalist Minister, and an eminent poet....

Translations From Miscellaneous Welsh Hymns
Had I but the wings of a dove, To regions afar I'd repa...

To The Lark
"Sentinel of the morning light! Reveller of the...

The Cuckoo's Tale
Hail, bird of sweet melody, heav'n is thy home; With the...

The Ewe

Category: The Sentimental.

So artless art thou, gentle ewe!
Thy aspect kindles feeling;
And every bosom doth bedew,
Each true affection stealing.

Thou hast no weapon of aught kind
Against thy foes to combat;
No horn or hoof the dog to wound
That worries thee so steadfast.

No, nought hast thou but feeble flight,
Therein thy only refuge;
And every cur within thy sight
Is swifter since the deluge.

And when thy lambkin weak doth fail,
Tho' often called to follow,
Thy best protection to the frail
Wilt give through death or sorrow.

Against the ground her foot will beat,
Devoutly pure her purpose;
Full many a time the sight thus meet
Brought tears to me in billows.

But if wise nature did not give
To her sharp tooth or weapon,
She compensation doth receive
From human aid and reason.

She justly has from man support
'Gainst wounds and tribulation;
And has the means without distort
To yield him retribution.

Yea, of more value is her gift
Than priceless mines of silver
Or gold which from the depth they lift
Through India's distant border.

To man she gives protection strong
From winds and tempests howling,
From pelting rain, and snow-drifts long,
When storms above are beating.

The mantle warm o'er us the night
Throughout the dismal shadows;
What makes our hearts so free and light?
What but the sheep so precious!

Then let us not the Ewe forget
When winter bleak doth hover;
When rains descend--and we safe set--
Let us be grateful to her.

Her cloak to us is comfort great
When by the ditch she trembles;
Let us then give her the best beat
For her abode and rambles.





Next: The Song Of The Fisherman's Wife
Previous: The Faithful Maiden

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