Madge Linsey at the well raised t… Brimmed her brass bucket full, wen… Loose hung her collar her full thr… Rough fell her silken hair, sullen… Went down the village street jaunt…

Gormlaith, wife of Niall Glundu, Happy was your dream that night, Dreamt you woke in sudden fright, Niall of Ulster stood by you. Niall of Ulster, dead and gone,

I left my home for travelling; Because I heard the strange birds… In foreign skies, and felt their w… Brush past my soul impatiently; I saw the bloom on flower and tree

Is it some shade from Paradise, Shut down beneath the clouding ski… This wandering voice that ever cri… In its pathetic sweetness? Some loving soul that, leaning far

A CHILD’S SONG There sits a piper on the hill Who pipes the livelong day, And when he pipes both loud and sh… The frightened people say

Lighted by the lady moon, Breezes blow and aspens quiver, By the stream’s enchanted tune Singing to the distant river, Walks Cecilia.

Heaven help your home to-night, MacCormac; for I know A white witch woman is your bride: You married for your woe. You thought her but a simple maid

Before my time my kindred were As felons in their land, Because they claimed the liberty That freemen understand. Ere I was born in Dublin town

When saucy Celia came my way I knew my sport was ended, So ceased my cunning rod to play, Since she the fish befriended. Across my eyes her tangled locks

’Twas the dream of a God, And the mould of His hand, That you shook 'neath His stroke, That you trembled and broke To this beautiful land.

A CHILD’S SONG [WRITTEN FOR KATHLEEN] I wish I had a soldier, a soldier… I wish I had a soldier to fight f… Marie has a soldier, a soldier, a…

My foe did strike me, Lord, I am… I cannot turn to him the other che… Rather to Thee for vengeance do I… Tooth for a tooth, dear Lord, eye… Had he but felled me, giving blow…

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…

[IN MEMORY OF PATRICK P… I saw a dreamer, I saw a poet, On the red battle-field fell my sl… ‘Lover of birds and flowers, singe… Dying with men of war, what do you…

Half seated on a mossy crag, Half crouching in the heather; I found a little Irish maid, All in June’s golden weather. Like some fond hand that loved the…