#IrishWriters
I know of a thrush’s nest, a prett… I know of a thrush’s nest with thr… It is in the perfumed pine, the ta… It is in the cool dark wood that… I know of a speckled trout, a nobl…
Cean duv deelish, beside the sea I stand and stretch my hands to th… Across the world. The riderless horses race to shore With thundering hoofs and shudderi…
Kine, kine, in the meadows, why do… High is the grass to your knees an… Sweet with the perfume of honey, a… But the sad-eyed kine on the hills… ‘Man, man has bereft us and taken…
If by my tomb some day you careles… A moment grieved by coming on my n… Ah! kneel awhile upon the tender g… In some short prayer acquitting me… If I reached not your pinnacle of…
The little birds, they do not heed… The ungracious wind, the branches… The sleety burden of the jaundiced… Bring them no mourning, for the bi… Though from their beak the stolen…
Thou hast encompassed us, indeed,… With these sad years. Where does… Of this Thy man, made to Thy like… Within the golden mirror of the su… Thou gavest Thy sweet loveliness…
Woe to the House of Breffni, and… Woe to us all in Erinn for the sh… And cursed be you, Dearvorgil, wh… And ruin brought to Erinn with th… It is the Prince of Breffni rides…
When I shall rise, and full of ma… Set forth upon my last long journe… And leave behind the circling eart… Amongst the countless stars to see… When in the vapourish blue I wand…
Listen to the tramping! Oh, God o… Can we kneel at prayer, sleep all… While the echo thunders?—God of p… Can we think of prayer—or sleep—so… Million upon million fleeing feet…
‘This is an evil night to go, my s… To the thorn-tree across the fairy… Will you not wait till Hallow Eve… For many are the dangers in your p… ‘I may not wait till Hallow Eve i…
Bring to me white roses, roses, pi… Sweet stock and gillyflowers, popp… Bee-flowers and mignonette, with b… I would make a coverlet for my nar… Bring me no silken cloth, velvet s…
The careless lad went through the… Leaped the retarding gate, And whistled thrice unto his dog, Who strayed behind so late. And then he turned him to the nort…
My fair-haired boy is sore bewitch… He goes all full of grieving; The web of gloom upon his brow Is sure of fairy weaving. His cheery laugh I never hear,
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…
I go through wet spring woods alon… Through sweet green woods with hea… My weary foot upon the grass Falls heavy as I pass. The cuckoo from the distance cries…