My darling lies down in her soft w… And she laughs at me. Her laughter has flushed her pale… Her eyes dance with glee. My darling lies close in her warm…

She has all Ireland in her blood, All Ireland’s need of sword and t… With memories dim before the flood… And conflicts of a thousand years. No son of Italy should love

My friend declares Being woman and virgin she Takes small account of periodicity And she is right. Her days are calmly spent

Today I saw A market cart going along the road… High-piled and creaking with a son… Of cabbages. The driver sat

He looks in my heart and the image… Is himself, himself, than himself… And he thinks of my heart as a mir… To reflect the image I hold most… But my heart is much more like a s…

Each morning I pass on my way to… A clock in a tower And I look towards it with anxiou… To make sure of the hour. But the sun gets up at the back of…

Child Sun Why will you play Peep Bo Now in, now out The workroom window so? True ’tis

Through the swift night I go to my love. Tram bells are joy bells, Bidding us move On a golden path

I must be dreaming through the day… And see the world with childish ey… If I’d go singing all my life And my songs be wise And in the kitchen or the house

Maisie’s been holding down her hea… Her little red head. And her poin… Rests on her neck that slips so so… The square-cut low-necked darling… In such a way, since it’s high-wai…

I dreamt last night of happy home-… Friends I had loved and had belie… Came happily to visit me and said I was a part of their fair home-co… It’s strange that I should dream…

I’m like all lovers, wanting love… A very mighty thing for you and me… In certain moods your love should… That burnt your very life up in de… The only kind of love then to my m…

Whenever I think of you, you are… Shut by yourself between Great walls of stone. There is a stool, I think, and a… And a mat underneath your feet;

There’s a big park just close to w… Trees in a row And shaggy grass whereon the dead… And in the middle round a great la… The fair yachts sail

Into old rhyme The new words come but shyly. Here’s a brave man Who sings of commerce dryly. Swift-gliding cars