#IrishWriters
Come with me, under my coat, And we will drink our fill Of the milk of the white goat, Or wine, if it be thy will; And we will talk until
The sun is always in the sky Whenever I get out of bed, And I often wonder why It’s never late.—My sister said She did not know who did the trick…
A speck went blowing up against th… As little as a leaf: then it drew… And broadened.—' It’s a bird,' sa… And fetched my bow and arrows. It… It grew up from a speck into a blo…
In the scented bud of the morning–… When the windy grass went rippling… I saw my dear one walking slow In the field where the daisies are… We did not laugh and we did not sp…
We thought at first, this man is a… Or the branch of a mighty and anci… That silly, sulky, illiterate, bla… Who was hatched by foreign vulgari… The good men of Clare were drinki…
The crooked paths go every way Upon the hill - they wind about Through the heather in and out Of the quiet sunniness. And there the goats, day after day…
Mad Patsy said, he said to me, That every morning he could see An angel walking on the sky; Across the sunny skies of morn He threw great handfuls far and ni…
My enemy came nigh, And I Stared fiercely in his face. My lips went writhing back in a gr… And stern I watched him with a na…
I cling and swing On a branch, or sing Through the cool, clear hush of M… Or fling my wing On the air, and bring
Behind the hill I met a man in gr… Who asked me if my mother had gone… I said she had. He asked me had I… His castle where the people sing a… From dawn to dark, and told me tha…
I am the maker, The builder, the breaker, The eagle-winged helper, The speedy forsaker! The lance and the lyre,
AND then I pressed the shell Close to my ear And listened well, And straightway like a bell Came low and clear
I went to the Wood of Flowers (No one was with me): I was there alone for hours. I was happy as could be In the Wood of Flowers.
I hear a sudden cry of pain! There is a rabbit in a snare: Now I hear the cry again, But I cannot tell from where. But I cannot tell from where
Do not forget my charge I beg of… That of what flow’rs you find of f… And sweetest odor you do gather th… Are best of all the best—a fragran… A tall calm lily from the watersid…