#IrishWriters
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...
Who goes amid the green wood With springtide all adorning her? Who goes amid the merry green wood To make it merrier? Who passes in the sunlight
What parallel courses did Bloom and Stephen follow returning? Starting united both at normal walking pace from Beresford place they followed in the order named Lower and Middle Gardiner...
Wind whines and whines the shingle… The crazy pierstakes groan; A senile sea numbers each single Slimesilvered stone. From whining wind and colder
At that hour when all things have… O lonely watcher of the skies, Do you hear the night wind and the… Of harps playing unto Love to unc… The pale gates of sunrise?
Lightly come or lightly go: Though thy heart presage thee woe, Vales and many a wasted sun, Oread let thy laughter run, Till the irreverent mountain air
Of that so sweet imprisonment My soul, dearest, is fain —— Soft arms that woo me to relent And woo me to detain. Ah, could they ever hold me there
This heart that flutters near my h… My hope and all my riches is, Unhappy when we draw apart And happy between kiss and kiss: My hope and all my riches ——yes! —…
YES because he never did a thing like that before as ask to get his breakfast in bed with a couple of eggs since the City Arms hotel when he used to be pretending to be laid up with a s...
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...
O cool is the valley now And there, love, will we go For many a choir is singing now Where Love did sometime go. And hear you not the thrushes call…
Deshil Holles Eamus. Deshil Holles Eamus. Deshil Holles Eamus. Send us bright one, light one, Horhorn, quickening and wombfruit. Send us bright one, light one, Horhorn, quickening and w...
Gaunt in gloom, The pale stars their torches, Enshrouded, wave. Ghostfires from heaven’s far verge… Arches on soaring arches,
Though I thy Mithridates were, Framed to defy the poison—dart, Yet must thou fold me unaware To know the rapture of thy heart, And I but render and confess
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