#IrishWriters
The moon-cradle’s rocking and rock… Where a cloud and a cloud goes by: Silently rocking and rocking, The moon-cradle out in the sky. The hound’s in his loop by the fir…
THE great ship lantern-girdled. The tender standing by; The waning stars cloud-shrouded, The land that we descry! That pale land is our homeland,
Two little creatures with faces the size of a pair of pennies are clasping each other “Ah do not leave me”
THOROUGH waters, thorough nati… To lay last offerings at your low… Brother, and to appeal To ashes that were you. Since that which none can check ha…
WHY do I look for fire to brand… What do I need, when all within i… And lo, she comes, carrying the li… And branding tool—she who is my de… What need have I for what is in h…
Pigeons that have flown down from the courts behind the orchards! Pigeons that run along the beach to take sand into your crops! What contrast is between you, birds of a rare stock, and...
Jesus His Mother meets: She looks on Him and sees The Savior in Her Son: The Angel’s word comes back: Within her heart she says,
NOT as a woman of the English we… English Do I weep’ A cry that scarcely stirs the hear… I lament as it is in my blood to l…
THE Wild Ass lounges, legs struc… In vagrom unconcern: The tombs o Achaemenian kings Are for those hooves to spurn. And all of rugged Tartary
A MOUNTAIN SPINNING SONG (A Young Girl sings it) THE Lannan Shee Watched the young man Brian Cross over the stile towards his f…
THE fiddles were playing and play… The couples were out on the floor; From converse and dancing he drew… And across the door. Ah! strange were the dim, wide mea…
BUT, Snake, you must not come wh… For you would tempt us; we should… ‘Oh, somewhere was a world was col… And voiceless; somewhere was a Be… Engrossed with substance, with no…
MOULD-COLOURED like the leaf… The autumn branch, he rises now, t… The cold eyes of the gannets see t… He has No-whither. Who was it mar… Earth from the waters? Who
OH I wish the sun was bright in t… And the fox was back in his den O… For always I’m hearing the passin… Of the terrible robber men O! Of the terrible robber men.
Of the Irish, Paris THE Lombards having gone back to… We, who might never flock to nativ… Except like birds that fly like fu… Desperately, in a wind across the…