#IrishWriters #Victorian
NOT that I love thy children, wh… See nothing save their own unlovel… Whose minds know nothing, nothing… But that the roar of thy Democrac… Thy reigns of Terror, thy great A…
A LILY—GIRL, not made for this… With brown, soft hair close braide… And longing eyes half veiled by sl… Like bluest water seen through mis… Pale cheeks whereon no love hath l…
O well for him who lives at ease With garnered gold in wide domain, Nor heeds the splashing of the rai… The crashing down of forest trees. O well for him who ne’er hath know…
Out of the mid-wood’s twilight Into the meadow’s dawn, Ivory limbed and brown-eyed, Flashes my Faun! He skips through the copses singin…
He did not wear his scarlet coat, For blood and wine are red, And blood and wine were on his han… When they found him with the dead, The poor dead woman whom he loved,
Could we dig up this long—buried t… Were it worth the pleasure, We never could learn love’s song, We are parted too long. Could the passionate past that is…
These are the letters which Endym… To one he loved in secret and apar… And now the brawlers of the auctio… Bargain and bid for each poor blot… Aye! for each separate pulse of pa…
THE Gods are dead: no longer do… To grey—eyed Pallas crowns of oli… Demeter’s child no more hath tithe… And in the noon the careless sheph… For Pan is dead, and all the want…
IT is full Winter now: the trees… Save where the cattle huddle from… Beneath the pine, for it doth neve… The Autumn’s gaudy livery whose g… Her jealous brother pilfers, but i…
The sky is laced with fitful red, The circling mists and shadows fle… The dawn is rising from the sea, Like a white lady from her bed. And jagged brazen arrows fall
We caught the tread of dancing fee… We loitered down the moonlit stree… And stopped beneath the harlot’s h… Inside, above the din and fray, We heard the loud musicians play
Now when the darkness came over th… having lighted a torch of pinewood… the valley. For he had business in… And kneeling on the flint stones o… a young man who was naked and weep…
The silver trumpets rang across th… The people knelt upon the ground w… And borne upon the necks of men I… Like some great God, the Holy Lo… Priest—like, he wore a robe more w…
O goat—foot God of Arcady! This modern world is grey and old, And what remains to us of thee? No more the shepherd lads in glee Throw apples at thy wattled fold,
It was night—time and He was alon… And He saw afar—off the walls of… city. And when He came near He heard wi… feet of joy, and the laughter of t…