#IrishWriters
‘It will be all the same in a thou… And in a thousand years It will be all the same, Whether or no Women’s tears flow,
I go through wet spring woods alon… Through sweet green woods with hea… My weary foot upon the grass Falls heavy as I pass. The cuckoo from the distance cries…
I would have wept with the beast, The bird, the blossoming flower, The hundred years of the oak, Or the insect born for an hour, Saying with my soul’s right
Kine, kine, in the meadows, why do… High is the grass to your knees an… Sweet with the perfume of honey, a… But the sad-eyed kine on the hills… ‘Man, man has bereft us and taken…
The Virgin speaks Draw back the s… O Cherubim, and Seraphim! Pull back the purple curtains of t… For I would look once more upon t… That ere my sorrows made some youn…
A Legend of Tyrol I through the valley of Klausen w… By a little stream, and heard it s… Down by its bed I crouched and be… A listening ear as it hurried by.
‘Many worlds have I made,’ said t… ‘But this is best of all,’ He slipped the round earth from H… Space held the circling ball. ‘Six days have I laboured,’ said…
Who has room for a friend Who has money to spend, And a goblet of gold For your fingers to hold, At the wave of whose hand
She walks in a lonely garden On the path her feet have made, With high-heeled shoes, gold-buckl… And gown of a flowered brocade; The hair that falls on her shoulde…
‘May I go to the field,’ said the… ‘Where the corn grows sweet and hi… ‘Is there aught on the stile,’ sai… ‘Or what do I there espy?’ ‘'Tis a shepherd’s lad, but he dre…
It was the Christmas of the year; The wind blew chill, the night was… And round the strong walls of the… The silent snow fell white and dee… But well the Baron’s board was sp…
He walks like one enchanted, Whose soul is held in thrall, By some sweet presence haunted Who passed unseen by all. He speaks as half-forgetting
Once she woke to fairyland, Now she wakes to grief, All the golden days are gone, Lost by time—the thief. Once she sprang to meet the dawn,
When summer comes, then you are ne… I feel your phantom presence on my… In every wind the dead year speaks… And every scene springs up to take… ’Twas such a day, as sweet a wind…
I am the song, that rests upon the… I am the sun I am the dawn, the day, the hiding… When dusk is done. I am the changing colours of the t…