How can I, that girl standing there, My attention fix On Roman or on Russian Or on Spanish politics? Yet here’s a travelled man that knows

SHE that but little patience knew, From childhood on, had now so much A grey gull lost its fear and flew Down to her cell and there alit, And there endured her fingers’ touch

‘O WORDS are lightly spoken,’ Said Pearse to Connolly, ‘Maybe a breath of politic words Has withered our Rose Tree; Or maybe but a wind that blows

I whispered, “I am too young,” And then, “I am old enough”; Wherefore I threw a penny To find out if I might love. “Go and love, go and love, young man,

Do you not hear me calling, white deer w… I have been changed to a hound with one… I have been in the Path of Stones and t… For somebody hid hatred and hope and des… Under my feet that they follow you night…

Red Rose, proud Rose, sad Rose of all… Come near me, while I sing the ancient… Cuchulain battling with the bitter tide; The Druid, grey, wood-nurtured, quiet-e… Who cast round Fergus dreams, and ruin…

Come, let me sing into your ear; Those dancing days are gone, All that silk and satin gear; Crouch upon a stone, Wrapping that foul body up

Where dips the rocky highland Of Sleuth Wood in the lake, There lies a leafy island Where flapping herons wake The drowsy water rats;

Although I can see him still, The freckled man who goes To a grey place on a hill In grey Connemara clothes At dawn to cast his flies,