Wales Poetry

My Father-land
Land of the Cymry! thou art still, In rock and valley, str...

Sad Died The Maiden
Sad died the Maiden! and heaven only knew The anguish s...

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

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

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...

An Address To The Summer
of Llanbadarn Fawr, Cardiganshire, and was born about ...

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

A Bridal Song
Wilt thou not waken, bride of May, While the flowers are...

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

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

By The Rev Rees Prichard, Ma
...

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; ...

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

The Vengeance Of Owain {96}
Gruffydd ab Cynan, Prince of Gwynedd, or North Wales, and ...

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

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

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

To The Daisy
Oh, flower meek and modest That blooms of all the soonest,...

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

The Faithful Maiden

Category: The Sentimental.

At the dawning of day on a morning in May,
When the birds through the forests were skipping so gay;
While crossing the churchyard of a parish remote,
In a district of Cambria, whose name I don't note:

I saw a fair maiden so rich in attire,
Second but to an angel her mien did appear;
Quick were her footsteps in tripping the sand,
And flowers resplendent were borne in her hand.

I fled to concealment that I might best learn
Her object and wish in a place so forlorn,
Without a companion--so early the hour--
For a region so gloomy thus leaving her bower.

Anon she advanced to a new tomb that lay
By the churchyard path, and there kneeling did stay,
While she planted the flowers with hands so clear,
And her looks were replete of meekness and fear.

The tears she would dry from eyelids fair
With a napkin so snow-white its hue and so rare;
And I heard a voice, that sadden'd my mind,
While it smote the breeze with words of this kind:--

"Here lieth in peace and quiet the one
I loved as dear as the soul of my own;
But death did us part to my endless woe,
Just when each to the other his hand would bestow.

Here resteth from turmoil, and sorrow to be,
The whole that in this world was precious to me;
Grow sweetly, ye flowers! and fair on his tomb,
Altho' you'll ne'er rival his beauty and bloom.

He erst received from me gifts that were more dear,
My hand for a promise--and a lock of my hair,
With total concurrence my portion to bear
Of his weal or his woe, whether cloudy or fair.

While sitting beside him how great my content,
In this place where my heart is evermore bent;
If I should e'er travel the wide globe around,
To this as their centre my thoughts would rebound.

Altho' from the earth thou dost welcome nor chide,
Nor smilest as once thou didst smile on thy bride;
And yet my beloved! 'tis comfort to me,
To sit but a moment so near to thee.

Thy eyes bright and tender my mind now doth see,
And remembers thy speech like the honey to me;
Thy grave I'll embrace though the whole world beheld,
That all may attest the love we once held."





Next: The Ewe
Previous: Woman

			Report Privacy
	SHARE	BOOKMARK

Viewed 355