#IrishWriters
THE red rose whispers of passion, And the white rose breathes of lov… O, the red rose is a falcon, And the white rose is a dove. But I send you a cream-white rose…
Nor gold, nor silver are the words… Nor rich-wrought chasing on design… But rugged relics of an unknown sp… Where fortune chanced I played on… Unthought of here the critic blame…
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…
Trapper died’our hero’and we g… In every heart in camp the sorrow… ‘His soul was red!’ the Indian cr… ‘A white man, he!’ the grim old Y… So, brief and strong, each mourner…
SOLDIER, why do you shrink from… The bullet that whizzed is past; t… Stand straight! you cannot shrink… A comrade in front may hear it whi…
A LEGEND OF THE BUSH. MY tale which I have brought is o… Ere that fair Southern land was s… Brought thitherward in reeking shi… Like blight upon the coast, or lik…
THE world was made when a man was… He must taste for himself the forb… He can never take warning from old… He must fight as a boy, he must dr… Of the friend of his soul; he must…
Life is a certainty, Death is a doubt; Men may be dead While they’re walking about. Love is as needful
IN the depths of the silent wood… Like a dream of snow-white stone,… Undraped beside a stream. The pious from every clime came th… With incense and gifts and prayer;…
LASHED to the planet, glaring a… An eagle at his heart’the Pagan… Why is it, Mystery? O, dumb Dark… Have always men, with loving heart… Made devils of their gods?
Nation of sun and sin, Thy flowers and crimes are red, And thy heart is sore within While the glory crowns thy head. Land of the songless birds,
NEVER nobler was the Senate, Never grander the debate: Rome’s old gods are on their trial By the judges of the state! Torn by warring creeds, the Fathe…
JOYS have three stages, Hoping,… The hands of Hope are empty, and… For the joy we take, in the taking… Now, which is the better—the joy u…
IS he well blessed who has no eye… The woeful things that shadow all… The latent brute behind the eyes o… The place and power gained and sta… The weakly victims driven to the w…
“I am poor,” said Chunder Ali, wh… Frowned in supercilious anger at t… “I am friendless and a Hindoo: su… Here in China, where the Hindoo f… I have naught to buy your justice;…