John Bliven Morin
Gwendolen, Page 4 Of 4 - Poem by John Bliven Morin
“I will not spare your daughter,
Nor will I pity thee;
You shall be bound, and then be drowned
In the river there you see.”
Gwendolen was a princess born
Dumnonian daughter of steel
With a sword to harm and a shield on her arm
And a wolf-hound at her heel.
The armies of the king and queen
Put all their arms away;
United again, the British men,
Did her their homage pay.
The queen she lived for many a year,
And a good queen she became;
In bardic song her fame lives on,
Remembered is her name.
And Mathan, her son, became a king,
High King of the Britons, he,
Who wed, in time, and sired the line
Of British royalty.
Comments about Gwendolen, Page 4 Of 4 by John Bliven Morin
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
- Still I RiseMaya Angelou
- The Road Not TakenRobert Frost
- If You Forget MePablo Neruda
- DreamsLangston Hughes
- Annabel LeeEdgar Allan Poe
- Stopping By Woods On A Snowy EveningRobert Frost
- IfRudyard Kipling
- I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love YouPablo Neruda
- Do Not Stand At My Grave And WeepMary Elizabeth Frye
- TelevisionRoald Dahl