I have heard whispers that I cannot speak,
Melodies, whose uncapturable tone
Drifted by starlight out of the unknown,
And left me shaken with beauty, and faint and weak.
And in the midnight when the timbers creak
Dreams have possessed me, greater than my own,
And in my solitary heart alone
I have seen grails I never will dare seek.

Why thunder the incalculable wings
About me so, if I am not to fly?
Why do the voices yet within me cry
Melodious? Why do the wild lights gleam,
And spill strange beauty over common things?
I am not visionary. Do I dream?

Could you keep the tints of spring
On the woods in misty brightness;
Keep the half-veiled boughs a-swing
To the linnet's flitting lightness;
Through the birch leaves' rippling green
Hold the maple-keys from dropping;
On the sward with May-showers clean,
Cheat the violets into stopping;

Could you make the rosebud's lips
Vow to be a bud forever;
From the sedges' wavering tips,
Bid the pendent dewdrop never;
Could you make the sunrise hour
For a lifetime overbrood you;
Could you change the year's full dower

But mark what he did
For to get to his station:
He told a damned lie
In the ear of the king.
Then a shite on his name,
For I'm all for the nation,
So don't bother me
With the name of the thing.
His taxes now prove
His great love for the people,
So wisely they're managed
To starve the poor souls.
Sure the praise of the man
Should be rung in each steeple
That would rob them of daylight,
Of candles and coals…

What will it please you, my darling, hereafter to be?
Fame upon land will you look for, or glory by sea?
Gallant your life will be always, and all of it free.

Free as the wind when the heart of the twilight is stirred
Eastward, and sounds from the springs of the sunrise are heard:
Free—and we know not another as infinite word.

Darkness or twilight or sunlight may compass us round,
Hate may arise up against us, or hope may confound;
Love may forsake us; yet may not the spirit be bound.

Free in oppression of grief as in ardour of joy

Wee Boo Peep, he lies rowin' on the floor,
Rum tumblin' up an' doun, dorty an' dour;
Sour as a sourack, and round as a neep,
A queer wirly warly is our Boo Peep.

Wee Boo Peep, he dances and he sings,
He laughs and he skirls till the hale house rings;
His fair wee face whiles is black as a sweep,
But warm are the lips aye o' Wee Boo Peep.

Wee Boo Peep, he chuckles and he leers,
His een glist wi' glee, or glammerit wi' tears;
He craws like a cock, he baas like a sheep,
Ye canna tell what's up wi' Wee Boo Peep.

Still much to read, but too late.
I turn out the light.
The leaves of the tree are green beside the street-lamp;
the wind hardly blows and the tree makes no noise.

Tomorrow up early,
the crowded street-car, the factory.

Many a deed of faithful daring may obtain no record here,
Wrought where none could see or note it, save the one Almighty Seer.

Many a deed awhile remembered, out of memory needs must fall,
Covered, as the years roll onward, by oblivion's creeping pall:

But there are which never, never to oblivion can give room,
Till in flame earth's records perish, till the thunder-peal of doom.

And of these through all the ages married to immortal fame,
One is linked, and linked for ever, Balaklava, with thy name—

Mother in gladness, Mother in sorrow,
Mother today, and Mother tomorrow,
With arms ever open to fold and caress you
O Mother of Mine, may God keep you and bless you.

Mother in gladness, Mother in sorrow,
Mother today, and Mother tomorrow,
With arms ever open to fold and caress you
O Mother of Mine, may God keep you and bless you.

TO MEATH of the pastures,
From wet hills by the sea,
Through Leitrim and Longford
Go my cattle and me.

I hear in the darkness
Their slipping and breathing.
I name them the bye-ways
They're to pass without heeding.

Then the wet, winding roads,
Brown bogs with black water;
And my thoughts on white ships
And the King o' Spain's daughter.

O! farmer, strong farmer!
You can spend at the fair
But your face you must turn
To your crops and your care.

And soldiers—red soldiers!
You've seen many lands;
But you walk two by two,

WE KNEW thee of old,
Oh, divinely restored,
By the light of thine eyes
And the light of thy Sword.

From the graves of our slain
Shall thy valour prevail
As we greet thee again—
Hail, Liberty! Hail!

Long time didst thou dwell
Mid the peoples that mourn,
Awaiting some voice
That should bid thee return.

Ah, slow broke that day
And no man dared call,
For the shadow of tyranny
Lay over all:

And we saw thee sad-eyed,
The tears on thy cheeks
While thy raiment was dyed
In the blood of the Greeks.