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| Mrs. Ogilvie of Drumquaigh had a poodle named Fanti. Her family, or at least those who lived with her, were her son, the laird, and three daughters. Of these the two younger, at a certain recent date, were paying a short visit to a neighbouri... Read more of The Dog Fanti at Scary Stories.ca | Informational.ca Privacy |
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Wales PoetryConcerning The Divine Providence... The Sick Man's Dream Dans le solitaire bourgade, Revant a ses maux triste... The Grove Of Broom The girl of nobler loveliness Than countess decked in go... The Bard's Long-tried Affection For Morfydd All my lifetime I have been Bard to Morfydd, "golden m... The Poor Man's Grave 'Neath the yew tree's gloomy branches, Rears a mound ... Ode To Cambria Cambria, I love thy genius bold; Thy dreadful rites, and... Roderic's Lament Farewell every mountain To memory dear, Each streamlet... Under The Orchard Tree Under the deep-laden boughs of the orchard Walks a maid... Short Is The Life Of Man Man's life, like any weaver's shuttle, flies, Or, like a t... The Day Of Judgment was a native of Anglesea, and entered the Welsh Church... The Rose Of Llan Meilen Sweet Rose of Llan Meilen! you bid me forget That ever i... 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,... Dafydd Ap Gwilym's Invocation To The Summer To Visit Glamorganshire, Where he spent many happy years at the hospitable mansion o... The Hall Of Cynddylan The Hall of Cynddylan is gloomy to-night, I weep, for th... Old Morgan And His Wife Hus.--Jane, tell me have you fed the pigs, Their cry is ... The Eisteddfod, Strike the harp: awake the lay! Let Cambria's voice be h... Snowdon King of the mighty hills! thy crown of snow Thou reares... Farewell To Wales The voice of thy streams in my spirit I bear; Farewell; ... Sad Died The Maiden Sad died the Maiden! and heaven only knew The anguish s... |
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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