Th' last month o' th' year; an' ther's summat rayther sorrowful abaat th' last o' owt, exceptin' trouble; an' still to me ther's allus summat varry interestin' abaat owt at's "th' last." Aw've watched men when they've been buil...
Young Harry wor a single chap, An wod have lots o' tin, An monny a lass had set her cap, This temptin prize to win. But Harry didn't want a wife, He'd rayther far be free;...
Tho' lightly sounds the song I sing to thee, Tho' like the lark's its soaring music be, Thou'lt find even here some mournful note that tells How near such April joy to weeping dwells....
Tho' the last glimpse of Erin with sorrow I see, Yet wherever thou art shall seem Erin to me; In exile thy bosom shall still be my home, And thine eyes make my climate wherever we room. ...
A changing medley of insistent sounds, Like broken airs, played on a Samisen, Pursues me, as the waves blot out the shore. The trot of wooden heels; the warning cry...
I sat me down in my easy chair, To read, as usual, the morning papers; But--who shall describe my look of despair, When I came to Lefroy's "destructive" capers! That he--that, of all live men, Lefroy...
Thou leanest to the shell of night, Dear lady, a divining ear. In that soft choiring of delight What sound hath made thy heart to fear? Seemed it of rivers rushing forth...
Too plain, alas, my doom is spoken Nor canst thou veil the sad truth o'er; Thy heart is changed, thy vow is broken, Thou lovest no more--thou lovest no more.
When these eyes, long dimmed with weeping, In the silent dust are sleeping; When above my narrow bed The breeze shall wave the thistle's head-- Thou wilt think of me, love! ...
We meant to be very kind, But if ever we find Another soft, grey-green, moss-coated, feather-lined nest in a hedge, We have taken a pledge-- Susan, Jemmy, and I--with remorseful tears, at this very minute,...
Where do you go when you go to sleep, Little Boy! Little Boy! where? 'Way - 'way in where's Little Bo-Peep, And Little Boy Blue, and the Cows and Sheep A-wandering 'way in there; - in there -...
In poisonous dens, where traitors hide Like bats that fear the day, While all the land our charters claim Is sweating blood and breathing flame, Dead to their country's woe and shame,...
Thy hill leave not, O Spring, Nor longer leap down to the new-green'd Plain. Thy western cliff-caves keep O Wind, nor branch-borne Echo after thee complain With grumbling wild and deep....
I serve you not, if you I follow, Shadowlike, o'er hill and hollow; And bend my fancy to your leading, All too nimble for my treading. When the pilgrimage is done, And we've the landscape overrun,...