#IrishWriters
DEAR islands of the Orient, Where Nature’s first of love was… Sweet hill-tops of the summered la… Where gods and men went hand in ha… In golden days of sinless earth!
THUNDER our thanks to her—guns,… Cheer from the ranks to her, Shout from the banks to her— Mayflower! Foremost and best of o… Mayflower! Twice in the national…
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… Of the friend of his soul; he must…
LOVE was true to me, True and tender; I who ought to be Love’s defender, Let the cold winds blow
o The faithful helm commands the kee… From port to port fair breezes blo… But the ship must sail the convex… Nor may she straighter go.
THERE is blood on the face of th… It reeks through the years, and is… Where Truth was slaughtered at bi… And the veins of Liberty bled. Lo! vain is the hand that tries
THEY came in the early spring-da… With the first refreshing showers And I watched the growing beauty Of the little drooping flowers. They had no bright hues to charm m…
THERE is no joy all set apart fr… The opening bud has loss as well a… The brightest dew-drop gems a bend… The rarest day has wept one little… But wholly blest the parting pain…
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…
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?
I KNEW it all my boyhood: in a l… Like a dryad’s mirror hidden by th… Its eye flashed back the sunshine,… And I loved its truthful depths w… I scooped my hand and drank it, an…
To toil all day and lie worn-out a… To rise for all the years to slave… And breed new broods to do no othe… In toiling, bearing, breeding—life… To myriad men, too base for man or…
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…
“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;…
