#CarpeDiem #IrishWriters
A KING once made a gallery of ar… With portraits of dead friends and… And at the end, ‘neath curtains dr… An empty marble pedestal was place… Here, every day, the king would co…
HE is coming! he is coming! in my… There is music in my blood, and it… That my love unknown comes toward… For I cannot hide the secret that… O the sweet bursting flowers! how…
IN the old Rabbinical stories, So old they might well be true,— The sacred tales of the Talmud, That David and Solomon knew,— There is one of the Father Abram,
THERE once was a time when, as o… The earth was not round, but an en… The sea was as wide as the heavens… Just millions of miles, and begin… And that was the time—ay, and more…
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…
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:…
BLESSED are Pain, the smiter, And Sorrow, the uniter! For one afflicted lies— A symboled sacrifice— And all our rancor dies!
A MAN will trust another man, an… His secret thought and act, as if… A woman—does she tell her sins? A… She never knew a woman she could t…
WE were down in the Indian Ocean… The last six months in the tropics… Five men up on the royal yards, we… And every day like its brother,—ju… Nothing to break the sameness: wat…
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?
LOVE was true to me, True and tender; I who ought to be Love’s defender, Let the cold winds blow
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,…
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…
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…
There are lonesome places upon the… That have never re-echoed a sound… Where the spirits abide that feast… On the shuddering soul of a murder… And take grim delight in the fearf…
