I’LL be an otter, and I’ll let y… A mate beside me; we will venture… A deep, full river when the sky ab… Is shut of the sun; spoilers are w… Thick-coated; no dog’s tooth can b…

NOR right, nor left, nor any road… Nor word to lift the heart in me… They leave me, who pass by me, to… care, Without a house to draw my step no…

AND that was when the chevaldour Through the whole of night Sang, for the moon of mid-July Made the hillside bright. Morfydd to David ap Gwillam spoke

To Meath of the pastures, From wet hills by the sea, Through Leitrim and Longford Go my cattle and me. I hear in the darkness

CAN it be that never more Men will grow on Islands? Ithaka and Eriskey, Iceland and Tahiti! Must the engines he has forged

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…

I. THE TREES THERE is no glory of the sunset… Heavy the clouds upon the darkenin… And heavy, too, the wind upon the… The trees sway, making moan

FOR the poor body that I own I could weep many a tear: The days have stolen flesh and bon… And left a changeling here. Four feeble bones are left to me,

FOUL-FEATHERED and scald-nec… They sit in evil state; Raw marks upon their breasts As on men’s wearing chains. Impure, though they may plunge

OVER old walls the Laburnums hang cones of fire; Laburnums that grow out of old mould in old gardens: Old maids and old men who have sav…

THEY have hanged Roger Casement… of a bell, Ochone, och, ochone, ochone! And their Smiths, and their Murra… Ochone, och, ochone, ochone!

IN companies or lone They bend their heads, their hands They busy with their gear, Accomplishing the stitch That turns the stocking-heel,

IT’S my fear that my wake won’t b… Nor my wake house a silent place: For who would keep back the hundre… Who would touch my breast and my f… For the good men were always my fr…

O woman, shapely as the swan, On your account I shall not die: The men you’ve slain—a trivial cla… Were less than I. I ask me shall I die for these—

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.