Irish Monthly, Volume 42

Front Cover
1914
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Page 210 - Made for our searching: yes, in spite of all, Some shape of beauty moves away the pall From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon, Trees old and young, sprouting a shady boon For simple sheep ; and such are daffodils With the green world they live in...
Page 448 - Over dews, over sands, Will I fly for your weal: Your holy, delicate white hands Shall girdle me with steel. At home, in your emerald bowers, From morning's dawn till e'en, You'll pray for me, my flower of flowers, My Dark Rosaleen!
Page 449 - I could kneel all night in prayer, To heal your many ills! And one beamy smile from you Would float like light between My toils and me, my own, my true, My dark Rosaleen! My own Rosaleen! Would give me life and soul anew, A second life, a soul anew, My dark Rosaleen ! Oh!
Page 180 - If music be the food of love, play on; Give me excess of it: that surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die. That strain again, it had a dying fall: O, it came o'er my ear, like the sweet sound That breathes upon a bank of violets; Stealing and giving odour.
Page 58 - Under the greenwood tree Who loves to lie with me, And turn his merry note Unto the sweet bird's throat, Come hither, come hither, come hither: Here shall he see No enemy But winter and rough weather. Who doth ambition shun And loves to live i...
Page 134 - Praised be my Lord for our sister the moon, and for the stars, the which he has set clear and lovely in heaven. Praised be my Lord for our brother, the wind, and for air and cloud, calms and all weather, by the which thou upholdest in life all creatures. Praised be my Lord for our sister water, who is very serviceable unto us, and humble, and precious, and clean.
Page 315 - I CHATTER over stony ways, In little sharps and trebles, I bubble into eddying bays, I babble on the pebbles. With many a curve my banks I fret By many a field and fallow, And many a fairy foreland set With willow-weed and mallow.
Page 60 - As I was walking all alane, I heard twa corbies making a mane ; The tane unto the t'other say, " Where sall we gang and dine to-day...
Page 447 - Little Jesus, wast Thou shy Once, and just so small as I? And what did it feel like to be Out of Heaven, and just like me? Didst Thou sometimes think of there, And ask where all the angels were? I should think that I would cry For my house all made of sky; I would look about the air, And wonder where my angels were; And at waking 'twould distress me Not an angel there to dress me! Hadst Thou ever any toys, Like us little girls and...
Page 527 - ... the human effort and sorrow going on perpetually from age to age, waves rolling for ever, and winds moaning for ever, and faithful hearts trusting and sickening for ever, and brave lives dashed away about the rattling beach like weeds...

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