#IrishWriters
That which he did not feel, he wou… What most he felt, religion it was… In a dumb darkling grotto, where t… Of tremulous tears, arising unespi… Became a holy well that durst not…
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,
Here the white-ray’d anemone is bo… Wood-sorrel, and the varnish’d but… And primrose in its purfled green… Pallid and sweet round every buddi… Gray ash, and beech with rusty lea…
Adieu to Belashanny! where I was bred and born; Go where I may, I’ll think of you… as sure as night and morn. The kindly spot, the friendly town…
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
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!—
Adieu to Belashanny! where I was… Go where I may, I’ll think of you… The kindly spot, the friendly town… And not a face in all the place bu… There’s not a house or window, the…
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…
Pluck not the wayside flower, It is the traveller’s dower; A thousand passers-by Its beauties may espy, May win a touch of blessing
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”
The Boy from his bedroom-window Look’d over the little town, And away to the bleak black upland Under a clouded moon. The moon came forth from her caver…
These little Songs, Found here and there, Floating in air By forest and lea, Or hill-side heather,
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,
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…
Four ducks on a pond, A grass-bank beyond, A blue sky of spring, White clouds on the wing; What a little thing