Telynegion Maes a Môr/Flower Sunday Lullaby

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Hwiangerdd Sul y Blodau Telynegion Maes a Môr
Telynegion Bywyd
gan Eliseus Williams (Eifion Wyn)
wedi'i gyfieithu gan Parch. J. W. Wynne-Jones, M.A., Caernarfon
Llawhaiarn Bendefig


WHERE the flow'rs and gray stone hide thee,
Sleep, my pearl, below;
That no harm shall e'er betide thee,
I and father know :
Little graves are never lonely,
Angels guard their kin;
Sleep, my child, thyself there only-
Sleep, Goronwy Wyn.

Well I mind, when thou wert sleeping
In our home with me,
Village boys I'd fain be keeping
From disturbing thee:
Would to-night our rest were shaken
By their artless cheer,
If, ah! if they could awaken
Thee, Goronwy dear.

Sleep, my child, without thy mother,
In God's acre rest;
We, this Flower Sunday, gather
Posies for thy breast:
Six small primroses unfolding
Tell of summer mild;
Sleep beneath them, none beholding,
Sleep, my rose, my child.

What are months and years to mothers—
Sleep, my darling, so ;
Thou alone, unlike the others,
Dost not older grow :
They are restless, restless ever,
Causing me dismay;
Not so thou, my darling, never
Does my dead one stray.

Slumber yet awhile, Goronwy,
Under that gray stone;
I must say "Good night," Goronwy,
Leaving thee alone:
Strange that cradle! hand of mother
Need not rock thee now:
Sleep until we meet each other,—
Sleep, and blest be thou.

Ficer Caernarfon.