#Irish
THE lanky hank of a she in the in… Nearly killed me for asking the lo… May the devil grip the whey-faced… And beat bad manners out of her sk… That parboiled imp, with the harde…
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
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…
His arms were round a chest of oak… It was clamped with brass and iron… An awful weight. After a while he… And I stole near to him.—His whit… As he peeped secretly about; he la…
In the winter time we go Walking in the fields of snow; Where there is no grass at all; Where the top of every wall, Every fence, and every tree,
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…
The moon comes every night to peep Through the window where I lie, And I pretend to be asleep; But I watch the moon as it goes b… And it never makes a sound.
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…
I am the maker, The builder, the breaker, The eagle-winged helper, The speedy forsaker! The lance and the lyre,
Come from your bed my drowsy gentl… And you, fair lady, rise and braid… And let the children wash, if wash… If not, assist you them, and make… As is the morning and the morning…
A sparrow hopped about the street, And he was not a bit afraid; He flew between a horse’s feet, And ate his supper undismayed: I think myself the horse knew well
And then I wakened up in such a f… I thought I heard a movement in t… But did not dare to look; I snugg… Down underneath the bedclothes—the… Of a tremendous voice said, ‘Sit…
Every Sunday there’s a throng Of pretty girls, who trot along In a pious, breathless state (They are nearly always late) To the Chapel, where they pray
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.