#IrishWriters
Every Sunday there’s a throng Of pretty girls, who trot along In a pious, breathless state (They are nearly always late) To the Chapel, where they pray
Do not forget my charge I beg of… That of what flow’rs you find of f… And sweetest odor you do gather th… Are best of all the best—a fragran… A tall calm lily from the watersid…
THE lanky hank of a she in the in… Nearly killed me for asking the lo… May the devil grip the whey-faced… And beat bad manners out of her sk… That parboiled imp, with the harde…
The sun is always in the sky Whenever I get out of bed, And I often wonder why It’s never late.—My sister said She did not know who did the trick…
I thought I heard Him calling. D… A sound, a little sound? My curio… Is dinned with flying noises, and… Goes—whisper, whisper, whisper sil… Till all its whispers spread into…
IN THE scented bud of the mornin… When the windy grass went rippling… I saw my dear one walking slow, In the field where the daisies are… We did not laugh and we did not sp…
The wind stood up and gave a shout… He whistled on his fingers and Kicked the withered leaves about And thumped the branches with his… And said that he’d kill and kill,
The moon comes every night to peep Through the window where I lie, And I pretend to be asleep; But I watch the moon as it goes b… And it never makes a sound.
Come from your bed my drowsy gentl… And you, fair lady, rise and braid… And let the children wash, if wash… If not, assist you them, and make… As is the morning and the morning…
A speck went blowing up against th… As little as a leaf: then it drew… And broadened.—' It’s a bird,' sa… And fetched my bow and arrows. It… It grew up from a speck into a blo…
I hear a sudden cry of pain! There is a rabbit in a snare: Now I hear the cry again, But I cannot tell from where. But I cannot tell from where
I saw the Devil walking down the… Behind our house.'There was a h… Strapped tightly on his shoulders,… Sizzled when it hit him. He picke… Up from the ground and put it in h…
So Eden was deserted, and at eve Into the quiet place God came to… His face was sad, His hands hung… Along his robe; too sorrowful to f… He paced along the grassy paths an…
My enemy came nigh, And I Stared fiercely in his face. My lips went writhing back in a gr… And stern I watched him with a na…
AND then I pressed the shell Close to my ear And listened well, And straightway like a bell Came low and clear