The people have drunk the wine of… In the streets of town. They smile as they drift with hear… Uphill and down. The people have drunk the wine of…

Now all the lovely days are past, The hours of sun and leagues of se… And starry nights that lay between Yourself and me. Our boat has left the sea behind.

They are so glad of a young compan… They hail and bless me, these boys… And I whose pathway was dark and… Have no more need of the sun to sh… We’ll walk in darkness, obscure, d…

Each day I sit in an ill-lighted… To teach a boy; For one hour by the clock great wo… Are our employ. We read St Agnes’ Eve and that m…

I went down to post a letter Through the garden, through the ga… All the lovely stars were shining As I went. They were free as I, unhappy

This morning I got up before the… Had seized the hill, And scrambled heart-hot, noisy, pa… In sleep laid still. There they lay helpless under the…

I know a room that’s dark in dayti… No sunbeams light it, Whether in months of gloom or mont… So people slight it. Yet in the noon of each succeeding…

Just now, as warm day faded from o… Hosts of archangels, fleet On lighting-winged feet Passed by, all glimmering in the b… Sweet angels, bringing no blinding…

The little ships are dearer than t… For they sail in strange places, They lean nearer the green waters. One may count by wavelets how the… From their decks; and hear the Se…

I found an orchid in the valley fa… And named it for us both, And left it there. Two flowers upon one stem, white-s… I couldn’t pull them up,

I’d love to have you on a rainy da… Tucked in a chair, my head against… To sit and dream with. Sometime y… My home-sharer whom rain can’t kee…

He: That isn’t you. She: It’s me, in my blue skirt And scarlet coat and little golden… He: Not good enough. She: Well, burn it if you choose

I have golden shoes To make me fleet. They are like the wind Underneath my feet. When my lover’s kiss

Oh, oh Rosalie, Oh, oh Rosalie, What would you have of me? Oh, oh Rosalie. I have kisses fine,

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