#Irish
I heard the dogs howl in the moonl… I went to the window to see the si… All the Dead that ever I knew Going one by one and two by two. On they pass’d, and on they pass’d…
By the shore, a plot of ground Clips a ruined chapel round, Buttressed with a grassy mound; Where Day and Night and Day go b… And bring no touch of human sound.
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…
Through grass, through amber’d cor… Fringed with its flags and reeds a… And Meadowsweet, the chosen of th… By wandering children, yellow as t… Of those great cows—winds on as in…
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…
Four ducks on a pond, A grass-bank beyond, A blue sky of spring, White clouds on the wing; What a little thing
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
I thought it was the little bed I slept in long ago; A straight white curtain at the he… And two smooth knobs below. I thought I saw the nursery fire,
Doleful was the land, Dull on, every side, Neither soft n’or grand, Barren, bleak, and wide; Nothing look’d with love;
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!—
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”
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
Now Autumn’s fire burns slowly al… And day by day the dead leaves fal… And night by night the monitory bl… Wails in the key-hold, telling how… O’er empty fields, or upland solit…
Up the airy mountain, Down the rushy glen, We daren’t go a-hunting For fear of little men; Wee folk, good folk,
