#Irish #XIXCentury
THERE are times when a dream del… Steals into a musing hour, Like a face with love capricious That peeps from a woodland bower; And one dear scene comes changeles…
LOVE’S Herald flew o’er all the… Crying: ’ Love’s altar waits for sacrifice!’ And all folk answered, like a wave… With treasured offerings and gifts…
GOD makes a poet: touches soul an… And lips and heart, and sends him… His fellows hearing, own the true… And crown him daily with the love… The king a lord makes, by a parchm…
TEAR down the crape from the col… Be silent the wailing music—there… We come not in plaint or sorrow—no… We dare not weep o’er the epitaph… Come hither with glowing faces, th…
I CARE not for the outer voice That deals out praise or blame; I could not with the world rejoice Nor bear its doom of shame— But when the Voice within me spea…
St. Patrick’s Day WHAT a onion of hearts is the lo… When races of men in her name unit… For love of Old Erin, and love of… The boards of the Gael are full t…
“What is the real good?” I ask in a musing mood. “Order,” said the law court; “Knowledge,” said the school; “Truth,” said the wise man;
I’D rather live in Bohemia than i… For only there are the values true… And the laurels gathered in all me… The prizes of traffic and state ar… By shrewdness or force or by deeds…
THE world was made when a man was… He must taste for himself the forb… He can never take warning from old… He must fight as a boy, he must dr… He must kiss, he must love, he mus…
NATHAN BEANS and William Lam… Known from infancy to revel only i… Many a mother of Nantucket bristl… With a horrid skulking whistle, te… But for all maternal bristling lit…
THE day and night are symbols of… And each has part in all that God… There is no ill without its compen… And life and death are only light… There never beat a heart so base a…
CAN the earth have a voice? Can… To murmur and rail at the demigods… Trample them! Grind their vulgar… The earth was made for lords and t… For the conquerors and the social…
HUNGER goes sleeplessly Thinking of food; Evil lies painfully Yearning for good. Life is a confluence:
O Beauteous Southland! Land of y… That hangeth o’ve thee slumbering,… The moveless foliage of thy valley… And wooded hills, like aureole of… Oh thou, discovered ere the fittin…
THE kindly words that rise within… And thrill it with their sympathet… But die ere spoken, fail to play t… And claim a merit that is not thei… The kindly word unspoken is a sin,…
