An acre of green grass
For air and exercise,
Now strength of body goes;
Midnight, an old house
Where nothing stirs but a mouse.

NOW all the truth is out,
Be secret and take defeat
From any brazen throat,
For how can you compete,
Being honour bred, with one

Behold that great Plotinus swim,
Buffeted by such seas;
Bland Rhadamanthus beckons him,
But the Golden Race looks dim,
Salt blood blocks his eyes.

SHY one, shy one,
Shy one of my heart,
She moves in the firelight
Pensively apart.
She carries in the dishes,

‘ALTHOUGH I’d lie lapped up in
A deal I’d sweat and little earn
If I should live as live the neig
Cried the beggar, Billy Byrne;
‘Stretch bones till the daylight c

The intellect of man is forced to
perfection of the life, or of the
And if it take the second must ref
A heavenly mansion, raging in the
When all that story’s finished, wh

Overcome—O bitter sweetness,
Inhabitant of the soft cheek of a
The rich man and his affairs,
The fat flocks and the fields’ fat
Mariners, rough harvesters;

IF any man drew near
When I was young,
I thought, ‘He holds her dear,’
And shook with hate and fear.
But O! ‘twas bitter wrong

The harlot sang to the beggar-man.
I meet them face to face,
Conall, Cuchulain, Usna’s boys,
All that most ancient race;
Maeve had three in an hour, they s

Ancestral Houses
SURELY among a rich man s flowe
Amid the rustle of his planted hil
Life overflows without ambitious p
And rains down life until the basi