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Wales PoetryThe Lament Op Llywarch HenThe bright hours return, and the blue sky is ringing ... Snowdon King of the mighty hills! thy crown of snow Thou reares... May And November Sweet May, ever welcome! the palace of leaves Thy hand for... Woman Gentle Woman! thou most perfect Work of the Divine Arc... The Castles Of Wales Ye fortresses grey and gigantic I see on the hills of... My Native Land My soul is sad, my spirit fails, And sickness in my he... The Monarchy Of Britain Sons of the Fair Isle! forget not the time, Ere spoilers h... The Golden Goblet, In Imitation Of Gothe There was a king in Mon, {62} A true lover to his grave; ... 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... The Lord Of Clas The Lord of Clas to his hunting is gone, Over plain and... Roderic's Lament Farewell every mountain To memory dear, Each streamlet... Song Of The Foster-son, Love I got a foster-son, whose name was Love, From one endu... The Poor Man's Grave 'Neath the yew tree's gloomy branches, Rears a mound ... Pennillion Cymry, and was much practised in the houses of the Welsh g... Under The Orchard Tree Under the deep-laden boughs of the orchard Walks a maid... The Song Of The Fisherman's Wife Restless wave! be still and quiet, Do not heed the win... Concerning The Divine Providence ... Taliesin's Prophecy A voice from time departed, yet floats thy hills among,... The Faithful Maiden At the dawning of day on a morning in May, When the bi... A Bridal Song Wilt thou not waken, bride of May, While the flowers are... |
The Mother To Her Child After Its Father's DeathCategory: The Sentimental. My gentle child, thou dost not know Why still on thee I am gazing so, And trace in meditation deep Thy features fair in silent sleep. Thy mien, my babe, so full of grace, Reminds me of thy father's face; Although he rests beneath the tree, His features all survive in thee. Thou knowest not, my gentle child, The deep remorse that makes me wild, Nor why sometimes I can't bestow A smile for smile when thine doth glow. Thy father, babe, lies in the clay, Lock'd in the tomb, his prison gray; And yet methinks he still doth live, When on thy face a glance I give. And dost thou smile, my baby fair, Before my face so pale with care? What for the world and its deceit, With myriad snares for youthful feet? These are before thee, while the aid Of father's counsel is deep laid; And soon thy mother wan may find A last home there--and thou behind. Thy sad condition then will be Like some lone flower upon the lea, Without a cover from the wind, Or winter's hail and snow unkind. But smile thou on--in heaven above Thy father lives, and He is love; He knows thy lot, and well doth care For all, and for thee will prepare. If through His help, Jehovah good! Thou smilest now in blissful mood; May I not think, safe in His hand Thou mayest travel through this land? Smile on, my child, for thou wilt find In Him a friend and father kind; He'll guide the orphan on his way, Nor ever will his trust betray. At last in the eternal land We all shall meet a joyous band, Without ought danger more to part, Or tear or sigh to heave the heart. Next: Woman Previous: Glan Geirionydd
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