"Speakin' of fertile soil," said the Kansan, when the others had had their say, "I never saw a place where melons growed like they used to out in my part of the country. The first season I planted 'em I thought my fortune was sure made. Howev... Read more of HYPERBOLE at Free Jokes.caInformational Site Network Informational
Privacy
Home - Collection of Stories - Famous Stories - Short Stories - Wales Poetry - Yiddish Tales

Wales Poetry

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

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

Taliesin's Prophecy
A voice from time departed, yet floats thy hills among,...

Pennillion
Cymry, and was much practised in the houses of the Welsh g...

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

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

The Rose Of The Glen
Although I've no money or treasure to give, No palace or c...

Dafydd Ap Gwilym's Invocation To The Summer To Visit Glamorganshire,
Where he spent many happy years at the hospitable mansion o...

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

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

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

The Mountain Galloway
My tried and trusty mountain steed, Of Aberteivi's hardy...

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

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

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

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

Farewell To Wales
The voice of thy streams in my spirit I bear; Farewell; ...

The Monarchy Of Britain
Sons of the Fair Isle! forget not the time, Ere spoilers h...

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

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



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!





Next: The Swan

Previous: That Had Been Converted Into A May-pole In The Town Of Llanidloes, In Montgomeryshire



Add to del.icio.us Add to Reddit Add to Digg Add to Del.icio.us Add to Google Add to Twitter Add to Stumble Upon
Add to Informational Site Network
Report
Privacy
SHAREADD TO EBOOK


Viewed 1780


Untitled Document