The Irish Literary Times

I have met them at close of day Coming with vivid faces From counter or desk among grey Eighteenth-century houses. I have passed with a

It can be bitter here at times like this, November wind sweeping across the border. Its seeds of ice would cut you to the quick.

Anocht ag filleadh dom, blaisim allas na cathrach faram. Deas liom a taiseacht. Preabann an Aimsir Láithreach gan aire ó gach balla i mbrothall an

When I was a boy, myself and my girl Used bicycle up to the Phoenix Park; Outside the gates we used lie in the grass

3 When all the others were away at Mass I was all hers as we peeled potatoes. They broke the silence, let fall one by

In the worst hour of the worst season [indent] of the worst year of a whole people a man set out from the workhouse with

Let them not forget us, the weak souls among the asphodels.