The Abbot of Innisfallen awoke ere dawn of day; Under the dewy green leaves went he forth to pray. The lake around his island

A fair witch crept to a young man’… And he kiss’d her and took her for… But a Shape came in at the dead o… And fill’d the room with snowy lig… And he saw how in his arms there l…

Saint Margaret’s Eve it did befal… The waves roll so gayly O, The tide came creeping up the wall… Love me true! I opened my gate; who there should…

O Spirit of the Summertime! Bring back the roses to the dells… The swallow from her distant clime… The honey-bee from drowsy cells. Bring back the friendship of the s…

Up the airy mountain, Down the rushy glen, We daren’t go a-hunting For fear of little men; Wee folk, good folk,

I’m glad I am alive, to see and f… The full deliciousness of this bri… That’s like a heart with nothing t… The young leaves scarcely tremblin… Rimming the cloudless ether far aw…

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

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…

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”

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…

With grief and mourning I sit to… My Love passed by, and he didn’t… He passes by me, both day and nigh… And carries off my poor heart’s de… There is a tavern in yonder town,

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,…

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,

Seek up and down, both fair and br… We’ve purty lasses many, O; But brown or fair, one girl most r… The Flow’r o’ Belashanny, O. As straight is she as poplar-tree

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,