Gwirwyd y dudalen hon
FLOWER SUNDAY LULLABY.
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.
