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Wales PoetryThe Cuckoo's TaleHail, bird of sweet melody, heav'n is thy home; With the... Walter Sele O'er Walter's bed no foot shall tread, Nor step unhallo... The Battle Of Gwenystrad contemporary of Aneurin in the sixth century. He appe... To The Daisy Oh, flower meek and modest That blooms of all the soonest,... The Monarchy Of Britain Sons of the Fair Isle! forget not the time, Ere spoilers h... Snowdon King of the mighty hills! thy crown of snow Thou reares... An Ode On The Death Of Hoel of the sixth century. He was himself a soldier, and d... Old Morgan And His Wife Hus.--Jane, tell me have you fed the pigs, Their cry is ... The Holly Grove Sweet holly grove, that soarest A woodland fort, an armed ... To The Lark "Sentinel of the morning light! Reveller of the... The Mountain Galloway My tried and trusty mountain steed, Of Aberteivi's hardy... The Farmer's Prayer poems of the "Good Vicar Prichard of Llandovery" would be ... The Ewe So artless art thou, gentle ewe! Thy aspect kindles... The Grove Of Broom The girl of nobler loveliness Than countess decked in go... The Mother To Her Child After Its Father's Death My gentle child, thou dost not know Why still on thee ... An Ode To The Thunder his bardic name of Dafydd Ionawr, was born in the year 1... A Bridal Song Wilt thou not waken, bride of May, While the flowers are... The Hall Of Cynddylan The Hall of Cynddylan is gloomy to-night, I weep, for th... Roderic's Lament Farewell every mountain To memory dear, Each streamlet... The Eisteddfod, Strike the harp: awake the lay! Let Cambria's voice be h... |
The Holly GroveCategory: 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
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