#IrishWriters
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
Kiss the maid and pass her round, Lips like hers were made for many. Our loves are far from us to-night… But these red lips are sweet as an… Let no empty glass be seen
Du aldrig vil elske? Til Stella j… en Morgen i Vaar, da jeg hos hend… mens Solen steeg over Hækken og… med Purpur i Duggen hvert skielve… Nei, svared hun, aldrig! Thi Elsk…
Who would hear the fairy horn Calling all the hounds of Finn Must be in a lark’s nest born When the moon is very thin. I who have the gift can hear
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…
Old lame Bridget doesn’t hear Fairy music in the grass When the gloaming’s on the mere And the shadow people pass: Never hears their slow grey feet
Maiden-poet, come with me To the heaped up cairn of Maeve, And there we’ll dance a fairy danc… Upon a fairy’s grave. In and out among the trees,
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…
I walk the old frequented ways That wind around the tangled braes… I live again the sunny days Ere I the city knew. And scenes of old again are born,
My mind is not my mind, therefore I take no heed of what men say, I lived ten thousand years before God cursed the town of Nineveh. The Present is a dream I see
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…
Quiet miles of golden sky, And in my heart a sudden flower. I want to clap my hands and cry For Beauty in her secret bower. Quiet golden miles of dawn—
Now leafy winds are blowing cold, And South by West the sun goes do… A quiet huddles up the fold In sheltered corners of the brown. Like scattered fire the wild fruit…
When I was young I had a care Lest I should cheat me of my shar… Of that which makes it sweet to st… For life, and dying still survive, A name in sunshine written higher
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…