#IrishWriters
Thou leanest to the shell of night… Dear lady, a divining ear. In that soft choiring of delight What sound hath made thy heart to… Seemed it of rivers rushing forth
I would in that sweet bosom be (O sweet it is and fair it is!) Where no rude wind might visit me. Because of sad austerities I would in that sweet bosom be.
Strings in the earth and air Make music sweet; Strings by the river where The willows meet. There’s music along the river
I was just passing the time of day with old Troy of the D. M. P. at the corner of Arbour hill there and be damned but a bloody sweep came along and he near drove his gear into my eye. I...
The summer evening had begun to fold the world in its mysterious embrace. Far away in the west the sun was setting and the last glow of all too fleeting day lingered lovingly on sea and...
Martin Cunningham, first, poked his silkhatted head into the creaking carriage and, entering deftly, seated himself. Mr Power stepped in after him, curving his height with care. Mr Deda...
All day I hear the noise of water… Making moan, Sad as the sea-bird is when, going Forth alone, He hears the winds cry to the wate…
Stately, plump Buck Mulligan came from the stairhead, bearing a bowl of lather on which a mirror and a razor lay crossed. A yellow dressinggown, ungirdled, was sustained gently behind h...
Go seek her out all courteously, And say I come, Wind of spices whose song is ever Epithalamium. O, hurry over the dark lands
Ineluctable modality of the visible: at least that if no more, thought through my eyes. Signatures of all things I am here to read, seaspawn and seawrack, the nearing tide, that rusty b...
My love is in a light attire Among the apple trees, Where the gay winds do most desire To run in companies. There, where the gay winds stay to…
They mouth love’s language. Gnash The thirteen teeth Your lean jaws grin with. Lash Your itch and quailing, nude greed… Love’s breath in you is stale, wor…
Wind whines and whines the shingle… The crazy pierstakes groan; A senile sea numbers each single Slimesilvered stone. From whining wind and colder
I heard their young hearts crying Loveward above the glancing oar And heard the prairie grasses sigh… No more, return no more! O hearts, O sighing grasses,
A birdless heaven, seadusk, one lo… Piercing the west, As thou, fond heart, love’s time,… Rememberest. The clear young eyes’ soft look, t…