#Irish #XIXCentury
WHAT shall we mourn? For the pro… For the fallen cliff that fronted… For the eagle that died in the tem… Nay, not for these shall we weep;… And the golden fillet shrink back…
I’D rather live in Bohemia than i… For only there are the values true… And the laurels gathered in all me… The prizes of traffic and state ar… By shrewdness or force or by deeds…
WHAT song is best for the soldie… Take no heed of the words, nor cho… Let it burst out from the heart li… Natural, clear, resistless, leapin… Whether of love or hate or war or…
Only from day to day The life of a wise man runs: What matter if seasons far away Have gloom or have double suns? To climb the unreal path,
IN the far time of Earth’s sweet… When Morning hung with rapture on… When every sentient life paid love… And every law was Nature’s own be… When reason ruled as subtle instin…
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,
There are lonesome places upon the… That have never re-echoed a sound… Where the spirits abide that feast… On the shuddering soul of a murder… And take grim delight in the fearf…
AN INCIDENT OF THE F… NO song of a soldier riding down To the raging fight from Winchest… No song of a time that shook the e… With the nations’ throe at a natio…
IT is sweet to rejoice for a day,… For a day that is reached at last! It is well for wanderers in new la… Slow climbers toward a lofty mount… Yearning with hearts and eyes stra…
LASHED to the planet, glaring a… An eagle at his heart—the Pagan C… Why is it, Mystery? O, dumb Dark… Have always men, with loving heart… Made devils of their gods?
A MAN is not the slave of circum… Or need not be, but builder and di… He makes his own events, not time… Their logic his: not creature, but…
AY, smile as you will, with your… But I know the line Of your guard is as weak as a maze… You may give no sign— And the devil is never far to seek…
THERE is blood on the face of th… It reeks through the years, and is… Where Truth was slaughtered at bi… And the veins of Liberty bled. Lo! vain is the hand that tries
WHAT man would be wise, let him… That bears on its bosom the record… A message to him every wave can de… To teach him to creep till he know… Who heeds not experience, trust hi…
DIXON, a Choctaw, twenty years… Had killed a miner in a Leadville… Tried and condemned, the rough-bea… And watch him stride in freedom fr… ‘Return on Friday, to be shot to…