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Wales Poetry

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

Song To Arvon
by the Rev. Evan Evans, a Clergyman of the Church of Eng...

The Eisteddfod,
Strike the harp: awake the lay! Let Cambria's voice be h...

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

The Holly Grove
Sweet holly grove, that soarest A woodland fort, an armed ...

Roderic's Lament
Farewell every mountain To memory dear, Each streamlet...

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

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

The Flowers Of Spring
beautiful stanzas, from which the following translation ...

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

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

The Poor Man's Grave
'Neath the yew tree's gloomy branches, Rears a mound ...

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

Concerning The Divine Providence
...

The Castles Of Wales
Ye fortresses grey and gigantic I see on the hills of...

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

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

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

By The Rev Rees Prichard, Ma
...

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



The Holly Grove






Category: The Sentimental.

Sweet holly grove, that soarest
A woodland fort, an armed bower!
In front of all the forest
Thy coral-loaded branches tower.
Thou shrine of love, whose depth defies
The axe--the tempest of the skies;
Whose boughs in winter's frost display
The brilliant livery of May!
Grove from the precipice suspended,
Like pillars of some holy fane;
With notes amid thy branches blended,
Like the deep organ's solemn strain.

* * * * *

House of the birds of Paradise,
Round fane impervious to the skies;
On whose green roof two nights of rain
May fiercely beat and beat in vain!
I know thy leaves are ever scathless;
The hardened steel as soon will blight;
When every grove and hill are pathless
With frosts of winter's lengthened night,
No goat from Hafren's {141} banks I ween,
From thee a scanty meal may glean!
Though Spring's bleak wind with clamour launches
His wrath upon thy iron spray;
Armed holly tree! from thy firm branches
He will not wrest a tithe away!
Chapel of verdure, neatly wove,
Above the summit of the grove!





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