How can I laugh or dance as other… Or ply my rock or reel? My heart will still return to drea… Beside my spinning-wheel. My little dog he cried out in the…

Thou shalt feel no more the wind o… Nor float on the breath of the bre… Thou shalt drowse no more on the b… ‘Neath the lullaby song of the tre… Thou shalt seek no more in the gre…

Lord! when they came and stood upo… With ‘One is dead,’ I paused awhi… In brief thanksgiving that I stil… On the good earth that had so much… Through my sweet garden softly did…

Who knocks at the Geraldine’s doo… In the black storm and the rain? With the thunder crash and the shr… Comes the moan of a creature’s pai… And once they knocked, yet never a…

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…

Now God between us and all harm, For I to-night have seen A banshee in the shadow pass Along the dark boreen. And as she went she keened and cri…

Bring to her spring flowers, Cowslip and celandine, And bid her hear the blackbird’s s… Let pass the sunny hours In her dull room to shine,

The good Lord gave, the Lord has… Blessed be His name, His holy wil… The mourners all have gone, all sa… The little grave lies lonely in th… Nay! I would not follow, though t…

The starlings they have come to to… With polka dots on their robes of… They sit a crowd on the old plane… And sing this quaint old melody Creak, creak, pipe, pipe, squeak,…

Gormlaith, wife of Niall Glundu, Happy was your dream that night, Dreamt you woke in sudden fright, Niall of Ulster stood by you. Niall of Ulster, dead and gone,

This Consul Casement—he who heard… Of stricken people—and who in his… To lift the torture load from brok… And shield sad women from eternal… Went through lone, hot, and fevere…

Oh, the lonely road, the road to… ’Tis there I see a little ghost,… She plucks the swaying cowslip nor… But flies at my pursuing, who once… She once did run to me.

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

I would have wept with the beast, The bird, the blossoming flower, The hundred years of the oak, Or the insect born for an hour, Saying with my soul’s right

My foe did strike me, Lord, I am… I cannot turn to him the other che… Rather to Thee for vengeance do I… Tooth for a tooth, dear Lord, eye… Had he but felled me, giving blow…