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Wales Poetry

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

From The Hymns Of The Rev William Williams, Pantycelyn
he inherited from his ancestors, was born in the parish of...

Glan Geirionydd
. One time upon a summer day I saunter'd on the shor...

Gwilym Glyn And Ruth Of Dyffryn
In the depth of yonder valley, Where the fields are bright...

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

The Battle Of Gwenystrad
contemporary of Aneurin in the sixth century. He appe...

The Vengeance Of Owain {96}
Gruffydd ab Cynan, Prince of Gwynedd, or North Wales, and ...

The Bard's Long-tried Affection For Morfydd
All my lifetime I have been Bard to Morfydd, "golden m...

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

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 ...

Dafydd Ap Gwilym To The White Gull
Bird that dwellest in the spray, Far from mountain woods a...

The Lament Op Llywarch Hen
The bright hours return, and the blue sky is ringing ...

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

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

The Eisteddfod,
Strike the harp: awake the lay! Let Cambria's voice be h...

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

An Ode To The Thunder
his bardic name of Dafydd Ionawr, was born in the year 1...

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...

Childe Harold
"Oh Gwynedd, fast thy star declineth, Thy name is gone, t...



The Song Of The Fisherman's Wife






Category: The Sentimental.

Restless wave! be still and quiet,
Do not heed the wind and freshet,
Nature wide is now fast sleeping,
Why art thou so live and stirring?
All commotion now is ending,
Why not thou thy constant rolling?

Rest thou sea! upon thy bosom
Is one from whom my thoughts are seldom,
Not his lot it is to idle,
But to work while he is able;
Be kind to him, ocean billow!
Sleep upon thy sandy pillow!

Wherefore should'st thou still be swelling?
Why not cease thy restless heaving?
There's no wind to stir the bushes,
And all still the mountain breezes:
Be thou calm until the morning
When he'll shelter in the offing.

* * * * *

Deaf art thou to my entreaty,
Ocean vast! and without mercy.
I will turn to Him who rules thee,
And can still thy fiercest eddy:
Take Thou him to Thy protection
Keep him from the wave's destruction!





Next: The Withered Leaf

Previous: The Ewe



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