#IrishWriters
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…
I MAY not speak in words, dear,… To tell their crimson secret in le… They plead for smiles and kisses a… And every purple veinlet thrills w… O, let me see the glance, dear, th…
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…
DEAR honored name, beloved for h… But loved and honored first that… In living proof to erring mortal e… That our poor earth is near akin t… Sweet word of dual meaning: one of…
“LOVE is the secret of the world… “The cup we drain and still desire… The loadstone hungers for the stee… Inert amid a million stones, respo… So yearn and answer hearts that tr…
TWO youths from a village set out… To seek their fortune the wide wor… One cried, ‘Hurra for the autumn… The other sighed, ‘Winter is almo… One failed, they said, for he neve…
THERE is an old tradition sacred… That says: 'Upon St. Martin’s Ev… No fishermen of Wexford shall, up… Set sail or cast a line within the… The tongue that framed the order,…
ENSIGN EPPS, at the battle of… Sowed a seed of glory and duty That flowers and flames in height… Like a crimson lily with heart of… To-day, when the wars of Ghent ar…
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…
THERE is a shadow on the sunny w… Dark and forbidding, like a bode o… Go, drive it thence. Alas, such s… From real things, nor may be moved… There is a shadow on my heart to-d…
LOVE was true to me, True and tender; I who ought to be Love’s defender, Let the cold winds blow
I START! I have slept for a mom… I have dreamt, sitting here by her… Oh, how lonely! What was it that… What presence, what heaven-sent ai… It was nothing, you say. But I tr…
A GOD-LIKE face, with human lo… And tender fancy traced in every l… A god-like face, but oh, how human… Dear Keats, who love the gods the…
DO not praise: a smile is payment… Who shall paint the mote’s glad ra… Nay, nor smile, for blind is eyesi… From the silence, from the twiligh… Songs were born before the singer:…
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…