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Alfred Moore Alfred Moore's answered asked Eva Baggot Street began bicycle bilberries brain By-and-by corner cottage crept dark dear doctor door Dublin Elliot Ritchie Eva Rivington Eva's eyes face feel felt fire girl glen Glendalough gorse grass grey hair half hand Harold Craven head heart heather hour husband idea knew Laragh letter lips little governess looked Martin Moore Merrion Square Miller mind minute Miss O'Connell morning mountain never night novel novelist once paused pigsty plot plover Portadown pretty rain road round Roundwood seemed silent sleep smile soft soul spoke stone strange street Stuart Rivington sudden suddenly talk tell Terry O'Connell Terry's thatch There's thing thought tired told turned uncon walked Wicklow Wicklow Mountains wife wild window woman women wonder words write
Page 57 - Shine ! shine ! shine ! Pour down your warmth, great sun ! While we bask, we two together. Two together ! Winds blow south, or winds blow north, Day come white, or night come black, Home, or rivers and mountains from home, > Singing all time, minding no time, While we two keep together.
Page 293 - COME not, when I am dead, To drop thy foolish tears upon my grave, To trample round my fallen head, And vex the unhappy dust thou wouldst not save. There let the wind sweep and the plover cry ; But thou, go by. Child, if it were thine error or thy crime I care no longer, being all unblest : Wed whom thou wilt, but I am sick of Time, And I desire to rest.
Page 243 - We love, we droop, we die! Ah ! wherefore do we laugh , or weep ? Why do we live, or die? Who knows that secret deep? — Alas, not I! Why doth the violet spring Unseen by human eye? Why do the radiant seasons bring Sweet thoughts that quickly fly? Why do our fond hearts cling To things that die? We toil — through pain and wrong; We fight, and fly; We love , we lose — and then , ere long, Stone-dead we lie. O life ! is all thy song "Endure and — die?
Page 44 - WHY should we faint and fear to live alone, Since all alone, so Heaven has will'd, we die,* Nor even the tenderest heart, and next our own, Knows half the reasons why we smile and sigh...
Page 132 - La vie est breve: un peu d'espoir, un peu de reve . . . et puis, bonsoir!
Page 146 - Oh, love for a year, a week, a day, But alas for the love that lasts alway...
Page 196 - I'd locked my heart in a cold kist And preened it wi' a silver pree. 4. Oh, willy, wally, but love is bonnie A little while when it is new, But it grows old and waxes cold, And fades away like morning dew.