Perhaps some day the sun will shine again, And I shall see that still the skies are blue, And feel once more…

We lay and ate the sweet hurt-berries In the bracken of Hurt Wood. Like a quire of singers singing low The dark…

Ladies and gentlemen, this is High Wood, Called by the French, Bois des Furneaux, The famous spot which in Nineteen-Sixteen, July, August…

You became In many acts and quiet observances A body and soul, entire. I cannot tell What time your life became mine:…

The mower stalled, twice; kneeling, I found A hedgehog jammed up against the blades, Killed. It had been in the long grass….

Once I am sure there’s nothing going on I step inside, letting the door thud shut. Another church: matting, seats, and stone,…

What do they think has happened, the old fools, To make them like this? Do they somehow suppose It’s more grown-up when…

Down by the salley gardens my love and I did meet; She passed the salley gardens with little snow-white feet. She bid…

The old brown thorn-trees break in two high over Cummen Strand, Under a bitter black wind that blows from the left hand;…

A pity beyond all telling Is hid in the heart of love: The folk who are buying and selling, The clouds on…

Although I can see him still – The freckled man who goes To a grey place on a hill In grey Connemara…