Cyhydedd Hir

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Dost thou ever hear

A voice in thine ear

Speaking loud and clear

Through each season?

Doth this voice so bold 

Speak of doubts untold

Of spirits grown cold

Without reason?

Dost thou know the light

Shining ever bright

From the moonless night

Within the shade?

Can thy poetry

Of melancholy

From deep within thee

Begin to fade?

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