Bedd Fy Nghariad

Y mae'r ywen werdd yn tyfu
  Uwch ben y bedd,
Lle mae 'nghariad bach yn cysgu
  Yn llwch y bedd;
Y mae'r rudd a wisgai rosyn
Dan y gwallt oedd fel aur-gadwyn,
At y meirwon wedi disgyn,
  Yn llwch y bedd.

Tyner wylo mae'r awelon
  Uwch ben ei bedd,
Fel o deimlad, ddagrau'n loewon,
  Uwch ben ei bedd;
Y gwynt yn dystaw sio'i chyntun
Yn yr Ywen ledai'i brigyn,
Ac ohoni'r dagrau'n disgyn
  Ar lwch ei bedd.

Cangau'r Ywen sy'n telori
  Uwch ben ei bedd,
Farw gān alarus iddi,
  Uwch ben ei bedd;
Wrth fyn'd heibio bedd y wenfron,
A grudd laith, a llygaid gwlybion,
Rho'i ochenaid mae'r awelon
  Uwch ben ei bedd.

Blodau'r haf a dyfant yno,
  Ar lwch ei bedd,
Ac a blygant benau i wylo,
  Ar lwch ei bedd;
Nid oes dim yn tyfu yno
Ar nad ydyw yn ymdeimlo, -
Gwellt a blodau sy'n cyd-wylo,
  Ar lwch y bedd.

Gwylia'r byw, wrth rodio'r beddau,
  Rhag rhoi dy droed
Ar ei bedd i blygu'r blodau,
  O dan dy droed;
Paid a rhuthro yn ddideimlad,
Bydded ysgafn dy gerddediad,
Paid a sathru bedd fy nghariad
  O dan dy droed.

The green yew is growing
  Above the grave,
Where my little love is sleeping
  In the dust of the grave;
The cheek that used to wear a rose
Under the hair that was like a gold chain,
To the dead has descended,
  In the dust of the grave.

Tenderly weeping are the breezes
  Above her grave,
As from feeling, tears clearly,
  Above her grave;
The wind silently whispering its agreement
In the yew that spread its twig,
And from it the tears falling
  Upon the dust of her grave.

The branches of the yew are harping
  Above her grave,
A mournful death-song for her,
  Above her grave,
While going past the whitebreast's gave,
With a damp cheek, and wet eyes,
Giving aa groan are the breezes
  Above her grave.

The flowers of the summer grow there,
  Upon the dust of her grave,
And bow heads to weep,
  Upon the dust of her grave;
There is nothing growing there
Upon anything feeling, -
Grass and flowers are weeping together,
  Upon the dust of the grave.

Watch, thou living, while walking the graves,
  Lest thou put thy foot
Upon her grave to bend the flowers,
  Under thy foot;
Do not rush unfeelingly,
Let thy walking be light,
Do not trample the grave of my love
  Under thy foot.