Classic Poem

Tell me, men with wisdom gifted,
How hath hiraeth been created?
Of what stuff hath it been made,
That it doth not wear nor fade?

Gold and silver wear away,
Velvet too, and silk they say;
Weareth every costly raiment:
But hiraeth is a lasting garment.

Now a great and cruel hiraeth
In my heart all day endureth,
And when I sleep most heavily,
Hiraeth comes and wakens me.
Hiraeth, hiraeth , O! depart!

Why dost thou press upon my heart?
O! move along to the bed side,
And let me rest till morning tide.