#IrishWriters
HUNGER goes sleeplessly Thinking of food; Evil lies painfully Yearning for good. Life is a confluence:
YE white-maned waves of the Weste… That ride and roll to the strand, Ye strong-winged birds, never forc… By the gales that sweep toward lan… Ye are symbols of death, and of ho…
‘SHE is dead!’ they say; 'she is… Her mother has kissed her clay-col… Her blue eyes show through the wax… Her grave is dug, and its heap of… ‘She is dead!’ they say to the peo…
Oh! no! I would not love again E’en had I still the power given; I would not risk its pain and fear… E’en though its joys were taste of… A breath may blight the heart we p…
‘HOW shall I a habit break?’ As you did that habit make. As you gathered, you must lose; As you yielded, now refuse. Thread by thread the strands we tw…
THOSE are vulgar things we pay f… While the precious and the peerles… Common debts are scored and cancel… But the debts from men to ages, th… Always see, the noblest nations ke…
MY friend he was; my friend from… With childlike faith he oped to me… No door was locked on altar, grave… No weakness veiled, concealed no d… The hope, the sorrow and the wrong…
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…
HER hair was a waving bronze, and… Deep wells that might cover a broo… And who, till he weighed it, could… That her heart was a cinder instea…
GOD’S order, ‘Light!’ when all w… Brought mornless noon, a flame wit… A gift unearned, that none may hol… An outer glory, not an inner guide… But flamed no star in heaven to li…
Once in a lifetime, we may see the… Tremble and lift, that hides symbo… The Spirit’s vision, when the sen… Sweeps the weird meaning that the… Deep in the midst of turmoil, it m…
Do you love me?' she said, when th… And we walked where the stream thr… And I told and retold her my love… While she listened and smiled, and… Do you love me?' she whispered, wh…
A CITY of Palaces! Yes, that’s… Look down this street—what a splen… Just glance at the wealth of a sin… The carving and cornice in gaudy s… And think of the acres of inner fl…
Farewell! Oh how hard and how sad… That last word of parting’foreve… The fond ties and affection that c… From home and from friends and fro… ‘Though it grieves to remember, ’t…
HE gathered cherry-stones, and ca… Into fine semblances of flies and… With subtle skill, he even imaged… The forms of tiny maids and ivied… His little blocks he loved to file…