#IrishWriters
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…
What counsel has the hooded moon Put in thy heart, my shyly sweet, Of Love in ancient plenilune, Glory and stars beneath his feet —… A sage that is but kith and kin
The Mabbot Street entrance of nighttown, before which stretches an uncobbled tramsiding set with skeleton tracks, red and green will-o’-the-wisps and danger signals. rows of grimy house...
The superior, the very reverend John Conmee S.J. reset his smooth watch in his interior pocket as he came down the presbytery steps. Five to three. Just nice time to walk to Artane. Wha...
Before Nelson’s pillar trams slowed, shunted, changed trolley, started for Blackrock, Kingstown and Dalkey, Clonskea, Rathgar and Terenure, Palmerston Park and upper Rathmines, Sandymou...
Rain has fallen all the day. O come among the laden trees: The leaves lie thick upon the way Of memories. Staying a little by the way
O, it was out by Donnycarney When the bat flew from tree to tre… My love and I did walk together; And sweet were the words she said… Along with us the summer wind
What parallel courses did Bloom and Stephen follow returning? Starting united both at normal walking pace from Beresford place they followed in the order named Lower and Middle Gardiner...
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,
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…
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...
Bid adieu, adieu, adieu, Bid adieu to girlish days, Happy Love is come to woo Thee and woo thy girlish ways— The zone that doth become thee fai…
The twilight turns from amethyst To deep and deeper blue, The lamp fills with a pale green g… The trees of the avenue. The old piano plays an air,
Of the dark past A child is born; With joy and grief My heart is torn. Calm in his cradle
The summer evening had begun to fold the world in its mysterious embrace. Far away in the west the sun was setting and the last glow of all too fleeting day lingered lovingly on sea and...