Irish Monthly, Volume 411913 |
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Anty beautiful Blessed brother called Carol Cathbad Catholic Catholic Truth Society Christ Christian Church Clonmacnoise College Green colour dark dear Declan Dublin Duvilla English eyes face Farola Father Russell Finglas Fitzgerald Freemasonry Freemasons friends Garrett George Petrie girl give goin gombeen hand happy head heard heaven holy interest Ireland IRISH MONTHLY Joe Aherne King Lady land lark light Limerick lives London look Lord Mary Masonic Maximian mind mother Motu Proprio Mount Melleray Neary never night Norah O'Daly passed poem poet poetry poor prayer Price priest religious Richard round Sabina Doolan saints says Scotland sing Slieve Donard SLIEVE GULLION smile Sodality song soul story Street sure sweet tell thee there's things thou thought took voice walk whin words write XLI.-No Youghal young
Popular passages
Page 34 - For so have I seen a lark rising from his bed of grass, and soaring upwards, singing as he rises, and hopes to get to heaven, and climb above the clouds : but the poor bird was beaten back with the loud sighings of an eastern wind, and his motion made irregular and inconstant — descending more at every breath of the tempest, than it could recover by the...
Page 393 - Some murmur, when their sky is clear And wholly bright to view, If one small speck of dark appear In their great heaven of blue. And some with thankful love are filled, If but one streak of light, One ray of God's good mercy gild The darkness of their night.
Page 58 - No, man is dear to man ; the poorest poor Long for some moments in a weary life When they can know and feel that they have been, Themselves, the fathers and the dealers-out Of some small blessings ; have been kind to such As needed kindness, for this single cause, That we have all of us one human heart.
Page 386 - Though I am old with wandering Through hollow lands and hilly lands, I will find out where she has gone, And kiss her lips and take her hands; And walk among long dappled grass, And pluck till time and times are done The silver apples of the moon, The golden apples of the sun.
Page 31 - Hark, hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings, And Phoebus 'gins arise, His steeds to water at those springs On chaliced flowers that lies; And winking Mary-buds begin To ope their golden eyes: With every thing that pretty is, My lady sweet, arise: Arise, arise.
Page 35 - BIRD of the wilderness, Blithesome and cumberless, -Sweet be thy matin o'er moorland and lea! Emblem of happiness, Blest is thy dwelling-place Oh to abide in the desert with thee ! Wild is thy lay and loud, Far in the downy cloud.
Page 33 - The lark now leaves his watery nest And climbing shakes his dewy wings ; He takes this window for the East, And to implore your light he sings : Awake, awake ; the morn will never rise Till she can dress her beauty at your eyes.
Page 506 - TO A SNOWFLAKE What heart could have thought you? — Past our devisal (O filigree petal!) Fashioned so purely, Fragilely, surely, From what Paradisal Imagineless metal, Too costly for cost? Who hammered you, wrought you, From argentine vapor?
Page 30 - tis the mind that makes the body rich ; And as the sun breaks through the darkest clouds, So honour peereth in the meanest habit. What, is the jay more precious than the lark, Because his feathers are more beautiful ? Or is the adder better than the eel, Because his painted skin contents the eye...
Page 95 - A LATE lark twitters from the quiet skies ; And from the west, Where the sun, his day's work ended, Lingers as in content, There falls on the old, gray city An influence luminous and serene, A shining peace. The smoke ascends In a rosy-and-golden haze. The spires Shine, and are changed. In the valley Shadows rise. The lark sings on. The sun, Closing his benediction, Sinks, and the darkening air Thrills with a sense of the triumphing night — Night with her train of stars And her great gift of sleep.