Tag Archives: Romantic Ireland’s dead and gone

Easter Week by Alfred Joyce Kilmer

In memory of Joseph Mary Plunkett “Romantic Ireland’s dead and gone, It’s with O’Leary in the grave.” Then, Yeats, what gave that Easter dawn A hue so radiantly brave? There was a rain of blood that day, Red rain in … Continue reading

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September 1913 by William Butler Yeats

What need you, being come to sense, But fumble in a greasy till And add the halfpence to the pence And prayer to shivering prayer, until You have dried the marrow from the bone; For men were born to pray … Continue reading

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