#IrishWriters
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,
Thou leanest to the shell of night… Dear lady, a divining ear. In that soft choiring of delight What sound hath made thy heart to… Seemed it of rivers rushing forth
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...
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...
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...
Winds of May, that dance on the s… Dancing a ring—around in glee From furrow to furrow, while overh… The foam flies up to be garlanded, In silvery arches spanning the air…
Gentle lady, do not sing Sad songs about the end of love; Lay aside sadness and sing How love that passes is enough. Sing about the long deep sleep
Gaunt in gloom, The pale stars their torches, Enshrouded, wave. Ghostfires from heaven’s far verge… Arches on soaring arches,
Of that so sweet imprisonment My soul, dearest, is fain —— Soft arms that woo me to relent And woo me to detain. Ah, could they ever hold me there
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,
Wind whines and whines the shingle… The crazy pierstakes groan; A senile sea numbers each single Slimesilvered stone. From whining wind and colder
Who goes amid the green wood With springtide all adorning her? Who goes amid the merry green wood To make it merrier? Who passes in the sunlight
Because your voice was at my side I gave him pain, Because within my hand I held Your hand again. There is no word nor any sign
By Lorries along sir John Rogerson’s quay Mr Bloom walked soberly, past Windmill lane, Leask’s the linseed crusher, the postal telegraph office. Could have given that address too. And p...