#IrishWriters
In early morning twilight, raw and… Damp vapours brooding on the barre… Through miles of mire in steady gr… Threescore well-arm’d police pursu… Each tall and bearded man a rifle…
Amy Margaret’s five years old, Amy Margaret’s hair is gold, Dearer twenty-thousand-fold Than gold, is Amy Margaret. “Amy” is friend, is “Margaret”
Within a budding grove, In April’s ear sang every bird hi… But not a song to pleasure my unre… Or touch the tears unwept of bitte… Some spake, methought, with pity,…
Up the airy mountain, Down the rushy glen, We daren’t go a-hunting For fear of little men; Wee folk, good folk,
The Abbot of Innisfallen awoke ere dawn of day; Under the dewy green leaves went he forth to pray. The lake around his island
Gray, gray is Abbey Assaroe, by… It has neither door nor window, th… The carven-stones lie scatter’d in… The only feet are those that come… A little rocky rivulet runs murmur…
October - and the skies are cool a… O’er stubbles emptied of their lat… Bare meadow, and the slowly fallin… The dignity of woods in rich decay Accords full well with this majest…
In Sussex here, by shingle and by… Flat fields and farmsteads in thei… The shallow tide-wave courses to t… And all along the down a fringe on… Of ducal woods. That 'dim discove…
Little Cowboy, what have you hear… Up on the lonely rath’s green moun… Only the plaintive yellow bird Sighing in sultry fields around, Chary, chary, chary, chee—ee!—
A man there came, whence none coul… Bearing a Touchstone in his hand; And tested all things in the land By its unerring spell. Quick birth of transmutation smote
Is always Age severe? Is never Youth austere? Spring-fruits are sour to eat; Autumn’s the mellow time. Nay, very late in the year,
O English mother, in the ruddy gl… Hugging your baby closer when outs… You see the silent, soft, and crue… Falling again, and think what ills… Unshelter’d creatures,- your sad t…
When the spinning-room was here Came Three Damsels, clothed in wh… With their spindles every night; One and Two and three fair Maiden… Spinning to a pulsing cadence,
Down on the shore, on the sunny sh… Where the salt smell cheers the la… Where the tide moves bright under… And the surge on the glittering st… Where the children wade in the sha…
Far from the churchyard dig his gr… On some green mound beside the wav… To westward, sea and sky alone, And sunsets. Put a mossy stone, With mortal name and date, a harp