My Curate’s Motor Bike (John O Brien Poems)
Before the lad invested we had comfort here indeed;Our lives were as an open book, and he who ran might ...
Before the lad invested we had comfort here indeed;Our lives were as an open book, and he who ran might ...
Ah, the memories that find me now my hair is turning gray,Drifting in like painted butterflies from paddocks far away;Dripping ...
Yes, that's the hardest hand at all upon my frosted head-That telegram that brought the news that Father Pat is ...
Have you seen the tidy cottage in the straggling, dusty street,Where the roses swing their censers by the door?Have you ...
Do you ever dream you hear it, you who went the lonely track?Do you ever hear its simple melodiesTossing round ...
'Twas Callagan who jerked the thumb-A mute, interrogating thumb- That set the people staringAt Casey's lot arriving late.They had in tow ...
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