Seeing the snowman standing all alone In dusk and cold is more than he can bear. The small boy weeps to hear the wind prepare A night of gnashings and enormous moan. His tearful sight can hardly reach to where The pale-faced figure with bitumen eyes Returns him such a God-forsaken...Read More
When I have fears that I may cease to be Before my pen has glean'd my teeming brain, Before high-piled books, in charactery, Hold like rich garners the full ripen'd grain; When I behold, upon the night's starr'd face, Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance, And think that I may...
"These lines were sent to me by William Smith O’Brien, the evening of Monday, October 8, 1848, the day on which sentence of death was passed upon him." -THOMAS FRANCIS MEAGHER (October 12, 1848)Never despair! Let the feeble in spirit Bow like the willow that stoops...Read More