#Irish
The Mabbot Street entrance of nighttown, before which stretches an uncobbled tramsiding set with skeleton tracks, red and green will-o’-the-wisps and danger signals. rows of grimy house...
This heart that flutters near my h… My hope and all my riches is, Unhappy when we draw apart And happy between kiss and kiss: My hope and all my riches ——yes! —…
Of the dark past A child is born; With joy and grief My heart is torn. Calm in his cradle
Preparatory to anything else Mr Bloom brushed off the greater bulk of the shavings and handed Stephen the hat and ashplant and bucked him up generally in orthodox Samaritan fashion whic...
I was just passing the time of day with old Troy of the D. M. P. at the corner of Arbour hill there and be damned but a bloody sweep came along and he near drove his gear into my eye. I...
My love is in a light attire Among the apple trees, Where the gay winds do most desire To run in companies. There, where the gay winds stay to…
Love came to us in time gone by When one at twilight shyly played And one in fear was standing nigh… For Love at first is all afraid. We were grave lovers. Love is pas…
All day I hear the noise of water… Making moan, Sad as the sea-bird is when, going Forth alone, He hears the winds cry to the wate…
The summer evening had begun to fold the world in its mysterious embrace. Far away in the west the sun was setting and the last glow of all too fleeting day lingered lovingly on sea and...
Fabled by the daughters of memory. And yet it was in some way if not as memory fabled it. A phrase, then, of impatience, thud of Blake’s wings of excess. I hear the ruin of all space, s...
I hear an army charging upon the l… And the thunder of horses plunging… Arrogant, in black armour, behind… Disdaining the reins, with flutter… They cry unto the night their batt…
What counsel has the hooded moon Put in thy heart, my shyly sweet, Of Love in ancient plenilune, Glory and stars beneath his feet —… A sage that is but kith and kin
Have you heard of one Humpty Dump… How he fell with a roll and a rumb… And curled up like Lord Olofa Cr… By the butt of the Magazine Wall, (Chorus) Of the Magazine Wall,
At that hour when all things have… O lonely watcher of the skies, Do you hear the night wind and the… Of harps playing unto Love to unc… The pale gates of sunrise?
I would in that sweet bosom be (O sweet it is and fair it is!) Where no rude wind might visit me. Because of sad austerities I would in that sweet bosom be.