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By Graves, Alfred Perceval
If heroic was my youth,
In truth its powers are over;
With brain dead and force sped,
Love sets at naught the lover!
The Muse from off my lips is thrust,
'Tis long since song has cheered me;
Gone is Ivor, counsellor just,
And Nest, whose grace upreared me!
Morfydd, all my world and more,
Lies low in churchyard gravel;
While beneath the burthen frore
Artist: Graves, Alfred Perceval
Year: 1880