Oh! if my love will come, her bard
Will, with his case, her footsteps guard,
There, where no stranger dares to pry,
Beneath yon Broom's green canopy!
ADDRESS TO A BIRCH TREE,
THAT HAD BEEN CONVERTED INTO A MAY-POLE IN THE TOWN OF LLANIDLOES, IN
MONTGOMERYSHIRE.
BY DAFYDD AP GWILYM.
Ah! birch tree, with the verdant locks,
And reckless mind--long hast thou been
A wand'rer from thy native rocks;
With canopy of tissue green,
And stem that 'mid the sylvan scene
A sceptre of the forest stood--
Thou art a traitress to the wood!
How oft, in May's short nights of old,
To my love-messenger and me
Thou didst a couch of leaves unfold!
Thou wert a house of melody,--
Proud music soared from every bough;
Ah! those who loved thee sorrow now!
Thy living branches teemed and rang
With every song the woodlands know,
And every woodland flow'ret sprang
To life--thy spreading tent below.
Proud guardian of the public way,
Such wert thou, while thou didst obey
The counsel of my beauteous bride--
And in thy native grove reside!
But now thy stem is mute and dark,
No more by lady's reverence cheered;
Rent from its trunk, torn from its park,
The luckless tree again is reared--
(Small sign of honour or of grace!)
To mark the parish market-place!
Long as St.
Pages:
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127