#IrishWriters
Fabled by the daughters of memory. And yet it was in some way if not as memory fabled it. A phrase, then, of impatience, thud of Blake’s wings of excess. I hear the ruin of all space, s...
By Lorries along sir John Rogerson’s quay Mr Bloom walked soberly, past Windmill lane, Leask’s the linseed crusher, the postal telegraph office. Could have given that address too. And p...
From dewy dreams, my soul, arise, From love’s deep slumber and from… For lo! the treees are full of sig… Whose leaves the morn admonisheth. Eastward the gradual dawn prevails
Pineapple rock, lemon platt, butter scotch. A sugarsticky girl shovelling scoopfuls of creams for a christian brother. Some school treat. Bad for their tummies. Lozenge and comfit manuf...
Silently she’s combing, Combing her long hair Silently and graciously, With many a pretty air. The sun is in the willow leaves
Lean out of the window, Goldenhair, I hear you singing A merry air. My book was closed,
He travels after a winter sun, Urging the cattle along a cold red… Calling to them, a voice they know… He drives his beasts above Cabra. The voice tells them home is warm.
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...
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...
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.
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...
Mr Leopold Bloom ate with relish the inner organs of beasts and fowls. He liked thick giblet soup, nutty gizzards, a stuffed roast heart, liverslices fried with crustcrumbs, fried henco...
O, it was out by Donnycarney When the bat flew from tree to tre… My love and I did walk together; And sweet were the words she said… Along with us the summer wind
O bella bionda, Sei come l’onda! Of cool sweet dew and radiance mil… The moon a web of silence weaves In the still garden where a child
Preparatory to anything else Mr Bloom brushed off the greater bulk of the shavings and handed Stephen the hat and ashplant and bucked him up generally in orthodox Samaritan fashion whic...