The strike’s done. The men won. The ships sail the sea To bring back What we lack,

I’ve had no man To guard and shelter me, Guide and instruct me From mine infancy. No lord of earth

‘I used to have dozens of handkerc… Of finest lawn. I used to have silk shirts and fin… He’s like a faun This darling out-at-elbows Irish…

Frolic mountain winds Innocent and shy, Kiss my darling’s cheek As they scurry by. Little fragrant leaves

He looks in my heart and the image… Is himself, himself, than himself… And he thinks of my heart as a mir… To reflect the image I hold most… But my heart is much more like a s…

When I go into town at half past… Great crowds of people stream acro… Hurrying, although it’s only half… They are the invisible people of t… When you go in to town about eleve…

You, whom the grave cannot bind, Shall a song hold you? Still you escape from the mesh Spun to enfold you. Your woven texture of flesh

Through the swift night I go to my love. Tram bells are joy bells, Bidding us move On a golden path

I’m not his wife. I am his paramo… His wayside love, picked up in jou… Rose of the hedgerows; fragrant, t… Me down beside the ditch, a droope… Some country boy may stick into hi…

I know more about flowers, And Pat knows about ships. ‘Schooner’ and 'barquentine’ Are words of note on his lips. Even 'schooner, barque-rigged’

Old memories waken old desires Infallibly. While we’re alive With eye or ear or sense at all, Sometimes, must love revive. But we’ll not think, when some str…

What were the good of stars if non… But mariners, astronomers and such… The sun and moon and stars were ma… I know that much.

When I am so worn out I cannot sl… And yet I know I have to work nex… Or lose my job, I sometimes have… To one long dead, who listens when… I ask Saint Rose of Lima for the…

I think each year should bring Little fresh songs Like flowers in spring. That they might deck the hours For a brief while