#IrishWriters
The night was creeping on the grou… She crept and did not make a sound Until she reached the tree, and th… She covered it, and sole again Along the grass beside the wall.
The moon comes every night to peep Through the window where I lie, And I pretend to be asleep; But I watch the moon as it goes b… And it never makes a sound.
In the winter time we go Walking in the fields of snow; Where there is no grass at all; Where the top of every wall, Every fence, and every tree,
I saw the Devil walking down the… Behind our house.'There was a h… Strapped tightly on his shoulders,… Sizzled when it hit him. He picke… Up from the ground and put it in h…
The crooked paths go every way Upon the hill - they wind about Through the heather in and out Of the quiet sunniness. And there the goats, day after day…
A sparrow hopped about the street, And he was not a bit afraid; He flew between a horse’s feet, And ate his supper undismayed: I think myself the horse knew well
To-day i felt as poor O’Brien did When, turning from all else that w… He took himself to that which was… —He took him to his verse—for othe… And (tho’ man will crave and seek)
I thought I heard Him calling. D… A sound, a little sound? My curio… Is dinned with flying noises, and… Goes—whisper, whisper, whisper sil… Till all its whispers spread into…
And then I wakened up in such a f… I thought I heard a movement in t… But did not dare to look; I snugg… Down underneath the bedclothes—the… Of a tremendous voice said, ‘Sit…
I hear a sudden cry of pain! There is a rabbit in a snare: Now I hear the cry again, But I cannot tell from where. But I cannot tell from where
A little girl and a big ugly man Went down the road. The girl was… And asking to go home, but when sh… He hit her on the head and sent he… And called her a young imp, and sa…
Come from your bed my drowsy gentl… And you, fair lady, rise and braid… And let the children wash, if wash… If not, assist you them, and make… As is the morning and the morning…
Every Sunday there’s a throng Of pretty girls, who trot along In a pious, breathless state (They are nearly always late) To the Chapel, where they pray
Come with me, under my coat, And we will drink our fill Of the milk of the white goat, Or wine, if it be thy will; And we will talk until
Behind the hill I met a man in gr… Who asked me if my mother had gone… I said she had. He asked me had I… His castle where the people sing a… From dawn to dark, and told me tha…