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Wales PoetryMy Native Land
My soul is sad, my spirit fails, And sickness in my he...
The Banks Of The Dee
One morning in May, when soft breezes were blowing O'er...
Streaking the mantle of deep night The rays of light ...
From The Hymns Of The Rev William Williams, Pantycelyn
he inherited from his ancestors, was born in the parish of...
The Farmer's Prayer
poems of the "Good Vicar Prichard of Llandovery" would be ...
a Welsh Congregationalist Minister, and an eminent poet....
Short Is The Life Of Man
Man's life, like any weaver's shuttle, flies, Or, like a t...
The Rose Of The Glen
Although I've no money or treasure to give, No palace or c...
The Day Of Judgment
was a native of Anglesea, and entered the Welsh Church...
Dafydd Ap Gwilym's Address To Morfydd After She Married His Rival
Too long I've loved the fickle maid, My love is turned to ...
A Bridal Song
Wilt thou not waken, bride of May, While the flowers are...
A voice from time departed, yet floats thy hills among,...
The World And The Sea: A Comparison
Like the world and its dread changes Is the ocean when it ...
Gentle Woman! thou most perfect Work of the Divine Arc...
An Ode To The Thunder
his bardic name of Dafydd Ionawr, was born in the year 1...
May And November
Sweet May, ever welcome! the palace of leaves Thy hand for...
To The Nightingale
river of that name was born at Mold, in Flintshire, in the...
Strike the harp: awake the lay! Let Cambria's voice be h...
Under The Orchard Tree
Under the deep-laden boughs of the orchard Walks a maid...
The Legend Of Trwst Llywelyn
Once upon a time, Llywelyn was returning from a great battl...
The Rose Of Llan Meilen
Category: The Sentimental.
Sweet Rose of Llan Meilen! you bid me forget
That ever in moments of pleasure we met;
You bid me remember no longer a name
The muse hath already companioned with fame;
And future ap Gwilyms, fresh wreaths who compose,
Shall twine with the chaplet of song for the brows
Of each fair Morvida, Llan Meilen's sweet Rose.
Had the love I had loved been inconstant or gay,
Enduring at most but a long summer's day,
Growing cold when the splendour of noontide hath set,
I might have forgotten that ever we met.
But long as Eryri its peak shall expose
To the sunshine of summer, or winter's cold snows,
My love will endure for Llan Meilen's sweet Rose.
Then bid me not, maiden, remember no more
A name which affection and love must adore,
'Till affection and love become one with the breath
Of life in the silent oblivion of death,
Perchance in that hour of the spirit's repose,
But not until then, when the dark eyelids close,
Can this fond heart forget thee, Llan Meilen's sweet Rose.
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