#IrishWriters
She had hair gold as her father’s… She tripped and sung, Like to a little lamb new-born, So gay, so young. She gathered lone in the long day’…
And so goodbye, my love, my dear,… E’en thus from my sad heart go hen… I cast thee out, renounce, and hol… I wreck the cup of joy thou heldes… To my lips, thinking we’d quaff—be…
I could have sung as sweet as any… Who in unfettered skies doth find… And sings to leaning angels prayer… For in God’s garden the most lowl… |But came the cares—a grey and sti…
‘This is an evil night to go, my s… To the thorn-tree across the fairy… Will you not wait till Hallow Eve… For many are the dangers in your p… ‘I may not wait till Hallow Eve i…
O the chatter, chatter, chatter, Of the things that do not matter. Little wordy things that clatter, Restless feet that pitter patter, All my pretty houses scatter,
I hear the thrush and blackbird si… And blackbird sing. Their honied voices wake the sleep… The slothful spring, And as each lovely note sighs fort…
Now God between us and all harm, For I to-night have seen A banshee in the shadow pass Along the dark boreen. And as she went she keened and cri…
Mo páistin deas, I did not know How cold the winter’s blast could… Into her heart, with what despair Earth drew her bloom and blossom f… How lone a man might come and go
I, like a moth to the candle, Am chained by a glance from your e… If I shun you, the world is in da… If I seek my desire, I die. I hide 'neath the wings of my fanc…
White rose must die all in the you… Though nightingale should sing the… Though summer breezes woo, She will not hear. Too delicate for the sun’s kiss so…
Here a gentle poet lies, Hurt to death by stinging flies. Hush thy laughter, whisper low. He hath more joy in the swift flig… Of some shy star that flew the nig…
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
Oh, the lonely road, the road to… ’Tis there I see a little ghost,… She plucks the swaying cowslip nor… But flies at my pursuing, who once… She once did run to me.
The little birds, they do not heed… The ungracious wind, the branches… The sleety burden of the jaundiced… Bring them no mourning, for the bi… Though from their beak the stolen…
What is the secret of your life, b… Ox the sweet grass eating? Who strung the mighty sinews in yo… Who set that great heart beating? What is the secret of your death,…