#Irish
The Swallows sang ALIEN to us are Your fields, and your cotes, and y… Secret our nests are Although they be built in your eav…
I HAVE saddled your white steed,… Your belt with crystal clasps, you… Your carbine silver-chased; now er… Across the sky-wide steppe, a hors… A promise make your bride: that at…
ALOOF from his tribe On the elm-tree’s top, A jackdaw perched A hand-reach up. Silent he sat
HERE you should lie, ye Kings of… Barbarossa, Boabdil, And Czar Lazar and Charlemagne, Arthur, Gaelic Finn– Here where the
I’LL be an otter, and I’ll l… A mate beside me; we will venture… A deep, dark river, when the sky a… Is shut of the sun; spoilers are w… Thick-coated; no dog’s tooth can…
SOJOURNER, set down Your skimming wheel; Nothing is sharp That we have of steel: Nothing has edge:
WRITTEN TO THE LONDON… ‘Tira autumn sun your shadow’s flu… Upon the field where now your reap… Lo, there! And lo! Your reaper’s… Is on your forehead like a kingly…
You would not slumber If laid at my breast: You would not slumber. The river-flood beats The swan from her nest:
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
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…
WHEN you were a lad that lacked… Oh, many’s the thing you’d see on… From Kill-o’-the-Grange to Bally… And from Cabinteely down into Bra… When you walked these roads the wh…
THEN, suddenly, I was aware inde… Of what he said, and was revolving… How, in the night, crows often tak… Rising from off the tree-tops in… And flying on: I pictured what he…
SHALL I go bound and you go fre… And love one so removed from me? Not so; the falcon o’er my brow Hath better quest, I dare avow! And must I run where you will rid…
IT was pure indeed, The air we breathed in, the light… I and my brother, when we played t… Or piped to one another; then ther… Two young lads of an age with one…
In The Farmer’s House I’M glad to lie on a sack of leav… By a wasted fire and take my ease. For the wind would strip me bare a… The wind would blow oul’ age upon…