#IrishWriters
Stately, plump Buck Mulligan came… —Introibo ad altare Dei. Halted, he peered down the dark wi… —Come up, Kinch! Come up, you fea… Solemnly he came forward and mount…
Before Nelson’s pillar trams slow… —Rathgar and Terenure! —Come on, Sandymount Green! Right and left parallel clanging r… —Start, Palmerston Park!
Preparatory to anything else Mr B… This was a quandary but, bringing… En route to his taciturn and, not… —And that one was Judas, Stephen… Discussing these and kindred topic…
Goldbrown upon the sated flood The rockvine clusters lift and swa… Vast wings above the lambent water… Of sullen day. A waste of waters ruthlessly
He Who Hath Glory Lost He who hath glory lost, nor hath Found any soul to fellow his, Among his foes in scorn and wrath Holding to ancient nobleness,
By Lorries along sir John Rogers… In Westland row he halted before… So warm. His right hand once more… He turned away and sauntered acros… He handed the card through the bra…
The twilight turns from amethyst To deep and deeper blue, The lamp fills with a pale green g… The trees of the avenue. The old piano plays an air,
From dewy dreams, my soul, arise, From love’s deep slumber and from… For lo! the treees are full of sig… Whose leaves the morn admonisheth. Eastward the gradual dawn prevails
Be not sad because all men Prefer a lying clamour before you: Sweetheart, be at peace again— Can they dishonour you? They are sadder than all tears;
In the dark pine—wood I would we lay, In deep cool shadow At noon of day. How sweet to lie there,
Bright cap and streamers, He sings in the hollow: Come follow, come follow, All you that love. Leave dreams to the dreamers
Love came to us in time gone by When one at twilight shyly played And one in fear was standing nigh… For Love at first is all afraid. We were grave lovers. Love is pas…
Pineapple rock, lemon platt, butte… A sombre Y.M.C.A. young man, wat… Heart to heart talks. Bloo . . . Me? No. Blood of the Lamb.
What counsel has the hooded moon Put in thy heart, my shyly sweet, Of Love in ancient plenilune, Glory and stars beneath his feet —… A sage that is but kith and kin
The eyes that mock me sign the way Whereto I pass at eve of day. Grey way whose violet signals are The trysting and the twining star. Ah star of evil! star of pain!