#IrishWriters #Victorian
IT is full Winter now: the trees… Save where the cattle huddle from… Beneath the pine, for it doth neve… The Autumn’s gaudy livery whose g… Her jealous brother pilfers, but i…
To that gaunt House of Art which… Of all the great things men have s… The withered body of a girl was br… Dead ere the world’s glad youth ha… And seen by lonely Arabs lying hi…
I am weary of lying within the cha… When the knights are meeting in ma… Nay, go not thou to the red—roofed… Lest the hoofs of the war—horse tr… But I would not go where the Squi…
I— There is no peace beneath the moon… Ah! in those meadows is there peac… Where, girdled with a silver fleec… As a bright shepherd, strays the m…
THIS English Thames is holier f… Those harebells like a sudden flus… Breaking across the woodland, with… Of meadow—sweet and white anemone To fleck their blue waves,—God is…
MY limbs are wasted with a flame, My feet are sore with travelling, For calling on my Lady’s name My lips have now forgot to sing. O Linnet in the wild—rose brake
Her ivory hands on the ivory keys Strayed in a fitful fantasy, Like the silver gleam when the pop… Rustle their pale—leaves listlessl… Or the drifting foam of a restless…
THE corn has turned from grey to… Since first my spirit wandered for… From the drear cities of the north… And to Italia’s mountains fled. And here I set my face towards ho…
We caught the tread of dancing fee… We loitered down the moonlit stree… And stopped beneath the harlot’s h… Inside, above the din and fray, We heard the loud musicians play
THERE was a time in Europe long… When no man died for freedom anywh… But England’s lion leaping from i… Laid hands on the oppressor! it wa… While England could a great Repub…
MILTON! I think thy spirit hath… From these white cliffs, and high-… This gorgeous fiery-coloured world… Seems fallen into ashes dull and g… And the age changed unto a mimic p…
Could we dig up this long—buried t… Were it worth the pleasure, We never could learn love’s song, We are parted too long. Could the passionate past that is…
O well for him who lives at ease With garnered gold in wide domain, Nor heeds the splashing of the rai… The crashing down of forest trees. O well for him who ne’er hath know…
WITHIN this restless, hurried,… We took our hearts’ full pleasure—… And now the white sails of our shi… And spent the lading of our argosy… Wherefore my cheeks before their t…
Christ, dost Thou live indeed? or… Still straitened in their rock—hew… And was Thy Rising only dreamed b… Whose love of Thee for all her si… For here the air is horrid with me…