#IrishWriters
St. Patrick’s Day WHAT a onion of hearts is the lo… When races of men in her name unit… For love of Old Erin, and love of… The boards of the Gael are full t…
They brought them up from their hu… The woeful sufferers gaunt and gri… They flocked from the city’s noiso… To the Monarch’s throne to be tou… ‘For his touch,’ they whisper, ‘is…
I CARE not for the outer voice That deals out praise or blame; I could not with the world rejoice Nor bear its doom of shame— But when the Voice within me spea…
ONCE I had a little sweetheart In the land of the Malay,— Such a little yellow sweetheart! Warm and peerless as the day Of her own dear sunny island,
A GOD-LIKE face, with human lo… And tender fancy traced in every l… A god-like face, but oh, how human… Dear Keats, who love the gods the…
WHERE shall we seek for a hero,… Our laurels are wreathed for conqu… But we honor a shrine unfinished,… If we sing the deed that was sown… Shall we take for a sign this Neg…
THEY came in the early spring-da… With the first refreshing showers And I watched the growing beauty Of the little drooping flowers. They had no bright hues to charm m…
LOVE found them sitting in a woo… His amorous hand amid her golden t… And Love looked smiling on her gl… And moistened eyes upturned to his… ‘O sweet,’ she murmured, ‘life is…
A LEGEND OF THE BUSH. MY tale which I have brought is o… Ere that fair Southern land was s… Brought thitherward in reeking shi… Like blight upon the coast, or lik…
HER hair was a waving bronze, and… Deep wells that might cover a broo… And who, till he weighed it, could… That her heart was a cinder instea…
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…
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;…
LOVE’S Herald flew o’er all the… Crying: ’ Love’s altar waits for sacrifice!’ And all folk answered, like a wave… With treasured offerings and gifts…
To toil all day and lie worn-out a… To rise for all the years to slave… And breed new broods to do no othe… In toiling, bearing, breeding—life… To myriad men, too base for man or…
o The faithful helm commands the kee… From port to port fair breezes blo… But the ship must sail the convex… Nor may she straighter go.