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Wales Poetry

Walter Sele
O'er Walter's bed no foot shall tread, Nor step unhallo...

King of the mighty hills! thy crown of snow Thou reares...

The Golden Goblet, In Imitation Of Gothe
There was a king in Mon, {62} A true lover to his grave; ...

The Rose Of Llan Meilen
Sweet Rose of Llan Meilen! you bid me forget That ever i...

Translated By The Rev William Evans
God doth withhold no good from those Who meekly fear him ...

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

The Circling Of The Mead Horns
Fill the blue horn, the blue buffalo horn: Natural is mead...

My Father-land
Land of the Cymry! thou art still, In rock and valley, str...

To The Spring
Oh, come gentle spring, and visit the plain, Far scatte...

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

The Legend Of Trwst Llywelyn
Once upon a time, Llywelyn was returning from a great battl...

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

The Banks Of The Dee
One morning in May, when soft breezes were blowing O'er...

The Deluge
* * * * * Whether to the east or west You go, wondr...

Concerning The Divine Providence

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

A Bridal Song
Wilt thou not waken, bride of May, While the flowers are...

The Shipwreck
a Welsh Congregationalist Minister, and an eminent poet....

The Rose Of The Glen
Although I've no money or treasure to give, No palace or c...

The Mother To Her Child After Its Father's Death
My gentle child, thou dost not know Why still on thee ...

To The Lark

Category: The Beautiful.

"Sentinel of the morning light!
Reveller of the spring!
How sweetly, nobly wild thy flight,
Thy boundless journeying:
Far from thy brethren of the woods, alone
A hermit chorister before God's throne!

"Oh! wilt thou climb yon heav'ns for me,
Yon rampart's starry height,
Thou interlude of melody
'Twixt darkness and the light,
And seek, with heav'n's first dawn upon thy crest,
My lady love, the moonbeam of the west?

"No woodland caroller art thou;
Far from the archer's eye,
Thy course is o'er the mountain's brow,
Thy music in the sky:
Then fearless float thy path of cloud along,
Thou earthly denizen of angel song."

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