#CarpeDiem #IrishWriters
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…
“What is the real good?” I ask in a musing mood. “Order,” said the law court; “Knowledge,” said the school; “Truth,” said the wise man;
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…
NOR War nor Peace, forever, old… But Strength my theme, whose song… The People’s Strength, the deep a… Of truths that seethe below the tr… The buried ruins of dead empires s…
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…
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…
There is one bright star in heaven Ever shining in my night; God to me one guide has given Like the sailor’s beacon light, Set on every shoal of danger
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’D rather live in Bohemia than i… For only there are the values true… And the laurels gathered in all me… The prizes of traffic and state ar… By shrewdness or force or by deeds…
I WROTE down my troubles every… And after a few short years, When I turned to the heart-aches… I read them with smiles, not tears…
NEVER nobler was the Senate, Never grander the debate: Rome’s old gods are on their trial By the judges of the state! Torn by warring creeds, the Fathe…
THE STORY OF AN ARCTIC N… AY, ay, I’ll tell you, shipmates, If you care to hear the tale, How myself and the royal yard alon… Were left of the old Narwhale.
Chicago, October 9,1871. GAUNT in the midst of the prairi… She who was once so fair; Charred and rent are her garments, Heavy and dark like cerements;
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…
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