Anthology of Irish VersePadraic Colum Boni and Liveright, 1922 - 361 páginas |
Dentro del libro
Resultados 1-5 de 24
Página 8
... telling of any of the ancient sagas . He aimed at doing for " The Tain Bo Cuiligne , " the Irish epic cycle , what Tenny- son at the time was doing for the Arthurian cycle , presenting it , not as a continuous narrative , but as a ...
... telling of any of the ancient sagas . He aimed at doing for " The Tain Bo Cuiligne , " the Irish epic cycle , what Tenny- son at the time was doing for the Arthurian cycle , presenting it , not as a continuous narrative , but as a ...
Página 16
... tell me , Shaun O'Farrell , why do you hurry so ? More than any other Anglo - Irish verse product , these street- songs show the influences of Gaelic music and the technique of Gaelic poetry . One finds stanzas the rhythm of which ...
... tell me , Shaun O'Farrell , why do you hurry so ? More than any other Anglo - Irish verse product , these street- songs show the influences of Gaelic music and the technique of Gaelic poetry . One finds stanzas the rhythm of which ...
Página 46
... tell . Of white roads winding by the edge Of bare , untamed land , Where dry stone wall or ragged hedge Runs wide on either hand . To cottage lights that lure you in From rainy Western skies ; And by the friendly glow within Of simple ...
... tell . Of white roads winding by the edge Of bare , untamed land , Where dry stone wall or ragged hedge Runs wide on either hand . To cottage lights that lure you in From rainy Western skies ; And by the friendly glow within Of simple ...
Página 72
Padraic Colum. Nell Flaherty's Drake MY NAME it is Nell , right candid I tell , And I live near a dell I ne'er will deny , I had a large drake , the truth for to spake , My grandfather left me when going to die ; He was merry and sound ...
Padraic Colum. Nell Flaherty's Drake MY NAME it is Nell , right candid I tell , And I live near a dell I ne'er will deny , I had a large drake , the truth for to spake , My grandfather left me when going to die ; He was merry and sound ...
Página 77
... tell you now , How he lately came a - courting of the Maid of the Sweet Brown Knowe . Said he , " My pretty fair maid , will you come along with me , We'll both go off together , and married we will be ; We'll join our hands in wedlock ...
... tell you now , How he lately came a - courting of the Maid of the Sweet Brown Knowe . Said he , " My pretty fair maid , will you come along with me , We'll both go off together , and married we will be ; We'll join our hands in wedlock ...
Contenido
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Otras ediciones - Ver todas
An Anthology of Irish Verse: The Poetry of Ireland from Mythological Times ... Padraic Colum Vista de fragmentos - 1948 |
Términos y frases comunes
Aghadoe Amen Banba banks of Erne beauty beneath birds blood blue Bogac Bán boys brave breast bright Bruadar Bunclody Christ cold cried Dark Rosaleen darling dead dear death DOUGLAS HYDE Draherin O Machree dream earth Eileen aroon ELEANOR HULL EMILY LAWLESS ETHNA CARBERY eyes fair Fardiad fire FRANCIS LEDWIDGE Gaelic glen Glinn gold golden gone green grey grief hand head hear heart heaven hill Hurroo Ireland Irish Irish poetry JAMES CLARENCE MANGAN Kincora King kiss knew ye Lament land leave light lonely Lugh maid maidens moon mountain mourn ne'er never night o'er ochone poem poet Rapparees road thro round Says the Shan Shan Van Vocht shining sigh singing sleep song sorrow soul sweet T. W. ROLLESTON thee There's Thomas MacDonagh thou Translated Twas waters wave white witch wild winding banks young
Pasajes populares
Página 242 - We thought, as we hollow'd his narrow bed, And smooth'd down his lonely pillow, That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head, And we far away on the billow. Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone, And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him — But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on In the grave where a Briton has laid him.
Página 150 - Up the airy mountain, Down the rushy glen, We daren't go a-hunting For fear of little men ; Wee folk, good folk, Trooping all together; Green jacket, red cap, And white owl's feather!
Página 242 - Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note, As his corse to the rampart we hurried ; Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot O'er the grave where our hero we buried. We buried him darkly at dead of night, The sods with our bayonets turning ; By the struggling moonbeam's misty light And the lantern dimly burning.
Página 168 - I've heard bells tolling Old Adrian's Mole in, Their thunder rolling From the Vatican, And cymbals glorious Swinging uproarious In the gorgeous turrets Of Notre Dame But thy sounds were sweeter Than the dome of Peter Flings o'er the Tiber, Pealing solemnly...
Página 292 - At the mid hour of night, when stars are weeping, I fly To the lone vale we loved, when life shone warm in thine eye; And I think oft, if spirits can steal from the regions of air To revisit past scenes of delight, thou wilt come to me there And tell me our love is remember'd, even in the sky...
Página 270 - All day long, in unrest, To and fro do I move, The very soul within my breast Is wasted for you, love! The heart in my bosom faints To think of you, my Queen, My life of life, my saint of saints, My dark Rosaleen!
Página 293 - neath the curtain of translucent dew, Bathed in the rays of the great setting flame, Hesperus, with the host of heaven, came ; And lo ! creation widened in man's view.
Página 57 - Steals up from her seat, longs to go — and yet lingers ; A frightened glance turns to her drowsy grandmother, Puts one foot on the stool, spins the wheel with the other. Lazily, easily, swings now the wheel round ; Slowly and lowly is heard now the reel's sound. Noiseless and light to the lattice above her The maid steps — then leaps to the arms of her lover. Slower — and slower — and slower the wheel swings; Lower — and lower — and lower the reel rings. Ere the reel and the wheel stop...
Página 111 - Christ in the heart of every man who thinks of me, Christ in the mouth of every man who speaks to me, Christ in every eye that sees me, Christ in every ear that hears me.
Página 168 - On this I ponder Where'er I wander, And thus grow fonder, Sweet Cork, of thee, With thy bells of Shandon That sound so grand on The pleasant waters Of the river Lee.