#IrishWriters
ON the third day from this (Saint… I will be where no wind that fille… Has ever been, and it blew high or… For from this home-creek, from thi… I shall put forth: make ready, you…
MAVOURNEEN, we’ll go far away From the net of the crooked town Where they grudge us the light of… Around my neck you will lay Two tight little arms of brown.
I THINK some saint of Eirinn wa… Found you and brought you here De… For so I greet you in this alien… And like those maidens who were on… In their own land as daughters of…
I KNOW you, Crane: I, too, have waited, Waited until my heart Melted to little pools around my f… Comer in the morning ere the crows…
A gaunt built woman and her son-in… A broad-faced fellow, with such fl… Nothing but easy nature’and his… The woman’s daughter, who spills… Out of a wide mouth, but who has e…
As I went down through Dublin cit… At the hour of twelve of the night… Who did I see but a Spanish lady Washing her feet by candle light. First she washed them,
AUTUMN A GOOD stay-at-home season is A… work to be joined in by all: Though the fawns, where the bracke… The stags that were lone upon hill…
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…
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
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…
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…
WE wander now who marched before, Hawking our bran from door to door… While other men from the mill take… So it is to be an Old Soldier. Old, bare and sore, we look on the…
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…
UP from the navel of the world, Where Cuzco has her founts of fir… The passer of the Gulf he comes. He lives in air, a bird of fire, Charted by flowers still he comes
You had the prose of logic and of… And words to sledge an iron argume… And yet you could draw down the ou… To perch beside the ravens of your… The dreams whereby a people challe…