Easter Week (Joyce Kilmer Poem)
(In memory of Joseph Mary Plunkett) ("Romantic Ireland's dead and gone, It's with O'Leary in the grave.") William Butler Yeats. ...
(In memory of Joseph Mary Plunkett) ("Romantic Ireland's dead and gone, It's with O'Leary in the grave.") William Butler Yeats. ...
If the Led Striker call it a strike, Or the papers call it a war, They know not much what ...
WHAT flower is this that greets the morn, Its hues from Heaven so freshly born? With burning star and flaming ...
THIS nosegay,--'twas I dress'd it,-- Greets thee a thousand times! Oft stoop'd I, and caress'd it, Ah! full a thousand ...
Feeling many times like the one in the story broken, needing healing like the one seeking Christ Entering in, though ...
The saints before us, toiling in the vineyard out in the pastures, on the rocky mountains, in the villages and ...
WHERE now these mingled ruins lie A temple once to Bacchus rose, Beneath whose roof, aspiring high, Full many a ...
Even the bravest that are slain Shall not dissemble their surprise On waking to find valor reign, Even as on ...
There's a whisper down the line at 11.39 When the Night Mail's ready to depart, Saying "Skimble where is Skimble ...
When a woman looks up at you with a twist about her eyes, And her brows are half uplifted in ...
In these quiet moments before the night softens the mountains of the South and deflates the clouds that float beneath ...
PART I 'Tis the middle of night by the castle clock And the owls have awakened the crowing cock; Tu-whit!- ...
A Fragment of a Turkish Tale The tale which these disjointed fragments present, is founded upon circumstances now less common ...
As evening falls, The walls grow luminous and warm, the walls Tremble and glow with the lives within them moving, ...
Lamoni, Iowa The factory siren tells workers time to go home tells them the evening has begun. When living with ...
AS Tam the chapman on a day, Wi'Death forgather'd by the way, Weel pleas'd, he greets a wight so famous, ...
BLEST be thy song, sweet NIGHTINGALE, Lorn minstrel of the lonely vale ! Where oft I've heard thy dulcet strain ...
Turn to yon vale beneath, whose tangled shade Excludes the blazing torch of noon-day light, Where sportive Fawns, and dimpled ...
There stands a hostel by a travelled way; Life is the road and Death the worthy host; Each guest he ...
Tanagra! think not I forget Thy beautifully-storey'd streets; Be sure my memory bathes yet In clear Thermodon, and yet greets ...
Since you did depart Out of my reach, my darling, Into the hidden, I see each shadow start With recognition, ...
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