Wild Earth and Other Poems

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H. Holt, 1916 - 73 страница

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Страница 3 - Brute-tamer, plough-maker, earth-breaker ! Canst hear? There are ages between us — Is it praying you are as you stand there alone in the sunset?
Страница 14 - A dresser filled with shining delph, Speckled and white and blue and brown! I could be busy all the day Clearing and sweeping hearth and floor, And fixing on their shelf again My white and blue and speckled store! I could be quiet there at night Beside the fire and by myself, Sure of a bed and loth to leave The ticking clock and the shining delph! Och! but I'm weary of mist and dark, And roads where there's never a house nor bush, And tired I am of bog and road, And the crying wind and the lonesome...
Страница 6 - And by captain's commands. 0 the smell of the beasts, The wet wind in the morn; And the proud and hard earth Never broken for corn; And the crowds at the fair, The herds loosened and blind, Loud words and dark faces And the wild blood behind.
Страница 26 - It will not be long, love, till our wedding day." She stepped away from me and she moved through the fair, And fondly I watched her go here and go there, Then she went her way homeward with one star awake, As the swan in the evening moves over the lake.
Страница 59 - And I must walk this road that winds 'Twixt bog and bog, while east there lies A city with its men and books, With treasures open to the wise, Heart-words from equals, comrade-looks; Down here they have but tale and song, They talk Repeal the whole night long. " You teach Greek verbs and Latin nouns," The dreamer of Young Ireland said.
Страница 6 - O ! the smell of the beasts, The wet wind in the morn ; And the proud and hard earth Never broken for corn ; And the crowds at the fair, The herds loosened and blind, Loud words and dark faces And the wild blood behind. (O ! strong men, with your best I would strive breast to breast. I could quiet your herds With my words, with my words.) I will bring you, my kine, Where there's grass to the knee ; But you'll think of scant croppings Harsh with salt of the sea.
Страница 42 - From across the sea, and there was a letter with it, Asking my father to put it to a tune And sing it all roads. He did that, in troth, And five pounds of tobacco were sent with the song To fore-reward him. I'll sing it for you now — The Baltimore Exile" The house I was bred in — ah, does it remain?
Страница 60 - Your Latin verse, your Grecian lore?' And what to me is Gael or Gall? Less than the Latin or the Greek. — I teach these by the dim rush-light, In smoky cabins night and week. But what avail my teaching slight? Years hence, in rustic speech, a phrase, As in wild earth a Grecian vase!
Страница 28 - A CRADLE SONG O MEN from the fields! Come gently within. Tread softly, softly, O men coming in! Mavourneen is going From me and from you, Where Mary will fold him With mantle of blue! From reek of the smoke And cold of the floor, And the peering of things Across the half-door. O men from the fields! Soft, softly come through — Mary puts round him Her mantle of blue.
Страница 14 - The pile of turf against the wall ! To have a clock with weights and chains And pendulum swinging up and down! A dresser filled with shining delph, Speckled and white and blue and brown! I could be busy all the day Clearing and sweeping hearth and floor, And fixing on...

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