#IrishWriters
THERE is no truth in faces, save… They laugh and frown and weep from… But we who meet the world give out… The true note dying muffled in the… O, there be woeful prayers and pit…
DEAD, with his harness on him: Rigid and cold and white, Marking the place of the vanguard Still in the ancient fight. The climber dead on the hill-side,
I MAY not speak in words, dear,… To tell their crimson secret in le… They plead for smiles and kisses a… And every purple veinlet thrills w… O, let me see the glance, dear, th…
THERE is an old tradition sacred… That says: 'Upon St. Martin’s Ev… No fishermen of Wexford shall, up… Set sail or cast a line within the… The tongue that framed the order,…
I START! I have slept for a mom… I have dreamt, sitting here by her… Oh, how lonely! What was it that… What presence, what heaven-sent ai… It was nothing, you say. But I tr…
There may be standard weight for p… But deeper meaning it must ever ho… Thank God, there are some things… And one of these—the real worth of… The stamp of king or crown has com…
DEAR honored name, beloved for h… But loved and honored first that… In living proof to erring mortal e… That our poor earth is near akin t… Sweet word of dual meaning: one of…
JOYS have three stages, Hoping,… The hands of Hope are empty, and… For the joy we take, in the taking… Now, which is the better—the joy u…
NATHAN BEANS and William Lam… Known from infancy to revel only i… Many a mother of Nantucket bristl… With a horrid skulking whistle, te… But for all maternal bristling lit…
LOVE is a plant with double root… And of strange, elastic power: Men’s minds are divided in naming… But a kiss is only the flower.
Once in a lifetime, we may see the… Tremble and lift, that hides symbo… The Spirit’s vision, when the sen… Sweeps the weird meaning that the… Deep in the midst of turmoil, it m…
“I am poor,” said Chunder Ali, wh… Frowned in supercilious anger at t… “I am friendless and a Hindoo: su… Here in China, where the Hindoo f… I have naught to buy your justice;…
IN the depths of the silent wood… Like a dream of snow-white stone,… Undraped beside a stream. The pious from every clime came th… With incense and gifts and prayer;…
“Come, sing a new song to her here… They cry to her sons who sing; And one sings: ‘ Mavourneen, it m… To think how the sorrows cling, Like the clouds on your mountains,…
The bees are in the meadow And the swallows in the sky; The cattle in the shadow Watch the river running by. The wheat is hardly stirring;