#IrishWriters
“There is one at the door, Wolfe… At the door, who bids you to come!… “Who is he that wakes me in the da… Calling when all the world is dumb… “Six horses has he to his carriage…
A spirit speeding down on All Sou… From the wide gates of that myster… Where sleep the dead, sung softly… ‘So gay a wind was never heard bef… The old man said, and listened by…
Clarissa, when you passed me by With scornful lip and haughty eye, My fault I did deplore, Your anger, like a poisoned dart, Struck death into my guilty heart,
Half seated on a mossy crag, Half crouching in the heather; I found a little Irish maid, All in June’s golden weather. Like some fond hand that loved the…
In the springtime once I wandered… Wonder-eyed I gazed around me in… And a path stretched long before m… While the birds, so sweetly singin… Down the path, with song and laugh…
A BALLAD OF SORROW ‘Jeanne Bras! Jeanne Bras! arise… Jeanne Bras! Jeanne Bras! will y… ‘Now who comes so late at my door,… Who knocks thus my slumbering to b…
And so goodbye, my love, my dear,… E’en thus from my sad heart go hen… I cast thee out, renounce, and hol… I wreck the cup of joy thou heldes… To my lips, thinking we’d quaff—be…
She had hair gold as her father’s… She tripped and sung, Like to a little lamb new-born, So gay, so young. She gathered lone in the long day’…
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…
[IN MEMORY OF PATRICK P… I saw a dreamer, I saw a poet, On the red battle-field fell my sl… ‘Lover of birds and flowers, singe… Dying with men of war, what do you…
Well, love, so be it as you say, Just the hours of a summer’s day, And no sighing for what comes afte… Whether it be tears or laughter. Take my hand, and we go together
If thou didst slip 'neath the enci… And found sure death in coral grov… Dost think the sea o’er thy unrest… Would check one moment of its ebb… If thou didst lie 'neath the entom…
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,…
When I was a young lad of happy s… There came to my window the Cushl… And the song that she sang was the… And the song that she sang was the… ‘And will you come with me, a vic…
Lone did I go within the ancient… With hushèd voice, and slow and re… While on the walls my wondering ey… Did learn the glories of the might… The sculptured stones here picture…