#WelshWriters
Here stinks a Poet, I confess, Yet wanting breath stinks so much…
BLACK eyes if you seem dark, It is because your beams are deep, And with your soul united keep: Who could discern Enough into them, there might lear…
Must he be ever dead? Cannot we a… Another life unto that Prince tha… Our souls laid up in him? Could n… Now when he left us, make that bod… After his death one Age? And keep…
Here lies King James, who did so… Unto the World that blest and qui… Wherein his Subjects liv’d, he se… That peace which Christ did leave… As once that King and Shepherd of…
TEARS, flow no more, or if you n… Fall yet more slow, Do not the world invade, From smaller springs than yours ri… And they again a Sea have made,
Having interred her infant-birth, The watery ground that late did mo… Was strewed with flowers for the r… Of the wished bridegroom of the ea… The well-accorded birds did sing
Black beauty, which above that com… Whose Power can no colours here r… But those which darkness can again… Do’st still remain unvary’d to the… And like an object equal to the vi…
Deep sighs, records of my unpitied… Memorials of my true though hopele… Keep time with my sad thoughts, ti… My long despairs for vain and caus… Yet if such hap never to you befal…
Uncessant Minutes, whil’st you mo… The time that tells our life, whi… Never so fast or farr, you’r new… Short steps shall overtake; for t… May scape his own Account, it sha…
WHEN our rude and unfashion’d wo… A being in their elements enjoy’d, Senseless and void, Come at last to be formed by thy t… And from thy breath receive that l…
Thou Black, wherein all colours a… And unto which they all at last re… Thou colour of the Sun where it d… And shadow, where it cools, in the… Whatever nature can, or hath dispo…
Exalted Mind! whose Character dot… The first Idea of Perfection, whe… Adam’s came, and stands so, how ca… In words? that only tell what here… Tofore hath been; thou need’st as…
Reader, here lies a Child that ne… And therefore never dy’d. ’Twas neither old nor yong, Born to this and the other world i… Let us them cease to mone,*
Dear, when I did from you remove, I left my joy, but not my love: That never can depart. It neither higher can ascend, Nor lower bend ;
Now that the April of your youth… The garden of your face; Now that for you each knowing love… And all seek to your grace; Do nor repay affection with scorns…