#IrishWriters
THERE is a queen in China, or m… And birthdays and holidays such pr… Of her unblemished lineaments, a w… That she might be that sprightly g… And there’s a score of duchesses,…
Under my window-ledge the waters r… Otters below and moor-hens on the… Run for a mile undimmed in Heaven… Then darkening through 'dark’ Raf… Run underground, rise in a rocky p…
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 m…
I walked among the seven woods of… Shan-walla, where a willow-hordere… Gathers the wild duck from the win… Shady Kyle-dortha; sunnier Kyle-n… Where many hundred squirrels are a…
That crazed girl improvising her m… Her poetry, dancing upon the shore… Her soul in division from itself Climbing, falling She knew not wh… Hiding amid the cargo of a steamsh…
It is now more than ten years since I met, for the last time, Michael Robartes, and for the first time and the last time his friends and fellow students; and witnessed his and their tra...
Once, when midnight smote the air, Eunuchs ran through Hell and met On every crowded street to stare Upon great Juan riding by: Even like these to rail and sweat
‘Never shall a young man, Thrown into despair By those great honey-coloured Ramparts at your ear, Love you for yourself alone
HE stood among a crowd at Dromaha… His heart hung all upon a silken d… And he had known at last some tend… Before earth took him to her stony… But when a man poured fish into a…
O BUT we talked at large before The sixteen men were shot, But who can talk of give and take, What should be and what not While those dead men are loitering…
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
S. Patrick. You who are bent, and… With a heavy heart and a wandering… Have known three centuries, poets… Of dalliance with a demon thing. Oisin. Sad to remember, sick with…
I dreamed that I stood in a valle… For happy lovers passed two by two… And I dreamed my lost love came s… With her cloud-pale eyelids fallin… I cried in my dream, O women, bid…
Wine comes in at the mouth And love comes in at the eye; That’s all we shall know for truth Before we grow old and die. I lift the glass to my mouth,
Pardon, old fathers, if you still… Somewhere in ear-shot for the stor… Old Dublin merchant “free of the… Or trading out of Galway into Spa… Old country scholar, Robert Emmet…