#IrishWriters
Sleep Now, O Sleep Now Sleep now, O sleep now, O you unquiet heart! A voice crying “Sleep now” Is heard in my heart.
Preparatory to anything else Mr Bloom brushed off the greater bulk of the shavings and handed Stephen the hat and ashplant and bucked him up generally in orthodox Samaritan fashion whic...
Deshil Holles Eamus. Deshil Holles Eamus. Deshil Holles Eamus. Send us bright one, light one, Horhorn, quickening and wombfruit. Send us bright one, light one, Horhorn, quickening and w...
My love is in a light attire Among the apple—trees, Where the gay winds do most desire To run in companies. There, where the gay winds stay to…
They mouth love’s language. Gnash The thirteen teeth Your lean jaws grin with. Lash Your itch and quailing, nude greed… Love’s breath in you is stale, wor…
I hear an army charging upon the l… And the thunder of horses plunging… Arrogant, in black armour, behind… Disdaining the reins, with flutter… They cry unto the night their batt…
Martin Cunningham, first, poked his silkhatted head into the creaking carriage and, entering deftly, seated himself. Mr Power stepped in after him, curving his height with care. Mr Deda...
YES because he never did a thing like that before as ask to get his breakfast in bed with a couple of eggs since the City Arms hotel when he used to be pretending to be laid up with a s...
O bella bionda, Sei come l’onda! Of cool sweet dew and radiance mil… The moon a web of silence weaves In the still garden where a child
Lightly come or lightly go: Though thy heart presage thee woe, Vales and many a wasted sun, Oread let thy laughter run, Till the irreverent mountain air
I heard their young hearts crying Loveward above the glancing oar And heard the prairie grasses sigh… No more, return no more! O hearts, O sighing grasses,
At that hour when all things have… O lonely watcher of the skies, Do you hear the night wind and the… Of harps playing unto Love to unc… The pale gates of sunrise?
Lean out of the window, Goldenhair, I hear you singing A merry air. My book was closed,
All day I hear the noise of water… Making moan, Sad as the sea-bird is when, going Forth alone, He hears the winds cry to the wate…
Strings in the earth and air Make music sweet; Strings by the river where The willows meet. There’s music along the river