#IrishWriters
When the shy star goes forth in he… All maidenly, disconsolate, Hear you amid the drowsy even One who is singing by your gate. His song is softer than the dew
Bronze by gold heard the hoofirons… Chips, picking chips off rocky thu… Horrid! And gold flushed more. A husky fifenote blew. Blew. Blue bloom is on the.
Rain has fallen all the day. O come among the laden trees: The leaves lie thick upon the way Of memories. Staying a little by the way
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,
They mouth love’s language. Gnash The thirteen teeth Your lean jaws grin with. Lash Your itch and quailing, nude greed… Love’s breath in you is stale, wor…
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…
Gaunt in gloom, The pale stars their torches, Enshrouded, wave. Ghostfires from heaven’s far verge… Arches on soaring arches,
Deshil Holles Eamus. Deshil Holl… Send us bright one, light one, Ho… Hoopsa boyaboy hoopsa! Hoopsa boy… Universally that person’s acumen i… It is not why therefore we shall w…
Sleep Now, O Sleep Now Sleep now, O sleep now, O you unquiet heart! A voice crying “Sleep now” Is heard in my heart.
Before Nelson’s pillar trams slow… —Rathgar and Terenure! —Come on, Sandymount Green! Right and left parallel clanging r… —Start, Palmerston Park!
Winds of May, that dance on the s… Dancing a ring—around in glee From furrow to furrow, while overh… The foam flies up to be garlanded, In silvery arches spanning the air…
At that hour when all things have… O lonely watcher of the skies, Do you hear the night wind and the… Of harps playing unto Love to unc… The pale gates of sunrise?
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;
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.
Lean out of the window, Goldenhair, I hear you singing A merry air. My book was closed,
