#IrishWriters
ONCE I had a little sweetheart In the land of the Malay,' Such a little yellow sweetheart! Warm and peerless as the day Of her own dear sunny island,
I do not know the meaning of the s… But bend before its power, as a re… When the black tornado fills the v… Three times in twenty years its sh… On lines of fire on the black veil…
CLEAR and bright, from the snowy… The joyous stream to the plain des… Rich sands of gold were washed and… To the turbid marsh where its pure… From stainless snow to the moor be…
O THE rare spring flowers! take… Do not wait forsummer buds’they… Every sweet to-day sends, we are w… Roses bloom for pulling: the path…
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…
THE day and night are symbols of… And each has part in all that God… There is no ill without its compen… And life and death are only light… There never beat a heart so base a…
IN the far time of Earth’s sweet… When Morning hung with rapture on… When every sentient life paid love… And every law was Nature’s own be… When reason ruled as subtle instin…
THERE is no joy all set apart fr… The opening bud has loss as well a… The brighest dewdropp gems a bendi… The rarest day has wept one little… But wholly blest the parting pain…
‘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 ma…
‘You gave me the key of your heart… Then why do you make me knock?’ ‘O, that was yesterday, Saints ab… And last night—I changed the lock…
NOR War nor Peace, forever, old… But Strength my theme, whose song… The People’s Strength, the deep a… Of truths that seethe below the tr… The buried ruins of dead empires s…
Only from day to day The life of a wise man runs: What matter if seasons far away Have gloom or have double suns? To climb the unreal path,
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…
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…
The bees are in the meadow And the swallows in the sky; The cattle in the shadow Watch the river running by. The wheat is hardly stirring;