#Irish #XIXCentury
ONE righteous word for Law—the c… One living truth of Faith—God reg… One primal test of Freedom—all co… One sacred Revolution—change of m… One trust unfailing for the night…
I am tired of planning and toiling In the crowded hives of men; Heart-weary of building and spoili… And spoiling and building again. And I long for the dear old river…
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,…
THE day of Joseph’s marriage unt… In thoughful mood he said unto his… Behold, I go into a far-off count… To labor for thee, and to make thy… And home all sweet and peaceful.'…
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…
LASHED to the planet, glaring a… An eagle at his heart—the Pagan C… Why is it, Mystery? O, dumb Dark… Have always men, with loving heart… Made devils of their gods?
YOU have waited, Priests of Irel… You have stood with folded arms un… By the fever and the famine you ha… Till the whisper hissed through I… You have looked with tearless eyes…
A NATION’S greatness lies in m… One master-mind is worth a million… No royal robes have marked the pla… But Samson-strength to burst the… The might of empire gives no crown…
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…
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…
“I am poor,” said Chunder Ali, wh… Frowned in supercilious anger at t… “I am friendless and a Hindoo: su… Here in China, where the Hindoo f… I have naught to buy your justice;…
WHAT man would be wise, let him… That bears on its bosom the record… A message to him every wave can de… To teach him to creep till he know… Who heeds not experience, trust hi…
I do not know the meaning of the s… But bend before its power, as a re… When the black tornado fills the v… Three times in twenty years its sh… On lines of fire on the black veil…
THOSE we love truly never die, Though year by year the sad memori… A ring and flowers, types of life… Are laid upon their graves. For death the pure life saves,
Trapper died—our hero—and we griev… In every heart in camp the sorrow… “His soul was red!” the Indian cr… “A white man, he!” the grim old Y… So, brief and strong, each mourner…
