#IrishWriters
When you come in, it seems a brigh… Crackles upon the hearth invitingl… The household routine which was wo… Grows full of novelty. You sit upon our home-upholstered…
Before you leave my hands’ abuses To lie where many odd things meet… Neglected darkling of the Muses, I, the last of singers, greet you. Snug in some white wing they found…
I saw her coming through the flowe… Round her swift ankles butterfly a… Blent loud and silent wings ; I s… Where foam-bows shivered on the su… Then came the swallow crowding up…
I heard the Poor Old Woman say: “At break of day the fowler came, And took my blackbirds from their… Who loved me well thro’ shame and… No more from lovely distances
Then in the lull of midnight, gent… Lifted him slowly down the slopes… Lest he should hear again the mad… Of battle, dying moans, and painfu… And where the earth was soft for f…
Come, May, and hang a white flag… Make truce with earth and heaven;… Now hides her sulky face deep in t… Of your new flowers by the water w… And in the ripples of the rising g…
We have fought so much for the nat… In the tents we helped to divide; Shall the cause of our common fath… On our earthstones lie denied? For the price of a field we have w…
All the dead kings came to me At Rosnaree, where I was dreaming… A few stars glimmered through the… And down the thorn the dews were s… And every dead king had a story
She paved the way with perfume swe… Of flowers that moved like winds a… And never weary grew my feet Wandering through[the spring’s del… She dropped her sweet fife to her…
Somewhere is music from the linnet… And thro’ the sunny flowers the be… And white bells of convolvulus on… Of quiet May make silent ringing,… Hither and thither by the wind of…
He shall not hear the bittern cry In the wild sky, where he is lain, Nor voices of the sweeter birds, Above the wailing of the rain. Nor shall he know when loud March…
He will not come, and still I wai… He whistles at another gate Where angels listen. Ah I know He will not come, yet if I go How shall I know he did not pass
God made my mother on an April da… From sorrow and the mist along the… Lost birds’ and wanderers’ songs a… And the moon loved her wandering j… Beside the ocean’s din she combed…
When May is here, and every morn Is dappled with pied bells, And dewdrops glance along the thor… And wings flash in the dells, I take my pipe and play a tune
Little ships of whitest pearl With sailors who were ancient king… Come over the sea when my little g… Sings. And if my little girl should weep,