For that old love I once adored I deck my halls and spread my boar… At Christmas-time. With all the winter’s flowers that… I wreathe my room, and mistletoe

’Twas the dream of a God, And the mould of His hand, That you shook 'neath His stroke, That you trembled and broke To this beautiful land.

Before my time my kindred were As felons in their land, Because they claimed the liberty That freemen understand. Ere I was born in Dublin town

He walks like one enchanted, Whose soul is held in thrall, By some sweet presence haunted Who passed unseen by all. He speaks as half-forgetting

Dear, in wintry weather, How close we crept together! The storms, with all their thunder… Could not our fond hands sunder. No sorrow followed after

I cried all night to you, I called till day was here; Perhaps you could not come, Or were too tirèd, dear. Your chair I set by mine,

Into my heart, Sorrow, you found… Mine enemy, it was bitter to weep… I gave you tears for drinking, And heart-sick sobs, With brain too sick for thinking,

At Pompeii I heard a woman laugh, And turned to find the reason of h… Saw but the silent figure of a gir… That centuries had mummied into ea… The running figure of a little mai…

He was the son of a hunting squire And heir to a fair estate, And she but an humble serving maid Who opened his father’s gate. He thought her sweet as the garden…

In a field by Cahirconlish I stood on sleeping grass, No cry I made to Heaven From my dumb lips would pass. Three days, three nights I slumbe…

‘May I go to the field,’ said the… ‘Where the corn grows sweet and hi… ‘Is there aught on the stile,’ sai… ‘Or what do I there espy?’ ‘'Tis a shepherd’s lad, but he dre…

White rose must die all in the you… Though nightingale should sing the… Though summer breezes woo, She will not hear. Too delicate for the sun’s kiss so…

I am the song, that rests upon the… I am the sun I am the dawn, the day, the hiding… When dusk is done. I am the changing colours of the t…

What is the secret of your life, b… Ox the sweet grass eating? Who strung the mighty sinews in yo… Who set that great heart beating? What is the secret of your death,…

Up in the cave of the wind, All bent and crabbed with their ye… In endless chatter they sit, Old Distaff, Spindle, and Shears… And they caught a mother’s song