#Irish #XIXCentury
God send us peace, and keep red st… But should it come, God send us m… The land is dead that dare not fac… When foreign danger threats the co… Defenders strong are they that hom…
THERE is a shadow on the sunny w… Dark and forbidding, like a bode o… Go, drive it thence. Alas, such s… From real things, nor may be moved… There is a shadow on my heart to-d…
’Twas a quaint old clock with a qu… and great iron weights and chain. It stopped when it liked, and befo… it creaked as if ’twere in pain. It had seen many years, and it see…
O Beauteous Southland! Land of y… That hangeth o’ve thee slumbering,… The moveless foliage of thy valley… And wooded hills, like aureole of… Oh thou, discovered ere the fittin…
Do you love me?' she said, when th… And we walked where the stream thr… And I told and retold her my love… While she listened and smiled, and… Do you love me?' she whispered, wh…
THERE is no joy all set apart fr… The opening bud has loss as well a… The brightest dew-drop gems a bend… The rarest day has wept one little… But wholly blest the parting pain…
IT is sweet to rejoice for a day,… For a day that is reached at last! It is well for wanderers in new la… Slow climbers toward a lofty mount… Yearning with hearts and eyes stra…
A SOFT-BREASTED bird from th… Fell in love with the light-house… And it wheeled round the tower on… And floated and cried like a lovel… It brooded all day and it fluttere…
St. Patrick’s Day WHAT a onion of hearts is the lo… When races of men in her name unit… For love of Old Erin, and love of… The boards of the Gael are full t…
A CITY of Palaces! Yes, that’s… Look down this street—what a splen… Just glance at the wealth of a sin… The carving and cornice in gaudy s… And think of the acres of inner fl…
LET be what is: why should we str… With awkward skill against a subtl… Or pin a mystery ‘neath our puny p… And vainly try to bray its secret… What boots it me to gaze at other…
THUNDER our thanks to her—guns,… Cheer from the ranks to her, Shout from the banks to her— Mayflower! Foremost and best of o… Mayflower! Twice in the national…
“AND Smith has made money?” “O, no; that’s a myth: Smith never made money But money made Smith!” A sculptor is Deming—a great man,…
TEAR down the crape from the col… Be silent the wailing music—there… We come not in plaint or sorrow—no… We dare not weep o’er the epitaph… Come hither with glowing faces, th…
LOVE was true to me, True and tender; I who ought to be Love’s defender, Let the cold winds blow
