Katharine Tynan

Katharine Tynan

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Katharine Tynan (23 January 1859 – 2 April 1931) was an Irish writer,[1] known mainly for her novels and poetry. After her marriage in 1898 to the Trinity College scholar, writer and barrister Henry Albert Hinkson (1865–1919) she usually wrote under the name Katharine Tynan Hinkson.
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Sheep and Lambs

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All in the April evening,
April airs were abroad;
The sheep with their little lambs Passed me by on the road
The sheep with their little lambs Passed me by on the road;
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Meetings

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As up and down I fare by road and street The mothers of our men-at-arms I meet Who die for mine and me, That we go safe and free,
Sit in the sun, sleep soft and find life sweet
I have two sons too young to fight, too young,
God gran...
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Of St Francis and the Ass

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Our father, ere he went Out with his brother,
Death,
Smiling and well-content As a bridegroom goeth,
Sweetly forgiveness prayed From man or beast whom he Had ever
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The Nurse

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Such innocent companionship Is hers, whether she wake or sleep, 'Tis scarcely strange her face should wear The young child's grave and innocent air
All the night long she hath by her The quiet breathing, the soft stir,
Nor knows how in t...
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The Doves

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The house where I was born,
Where I was young and gay,
Grows old amid its corn,
Amid its scented hay
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The Weeping Babe

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She kneels by the cradle Where Jesus doth lie;
Singing,
Lullaby, my Baby
But why dost Thou cry
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The Broken Soldier

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The broken soldier sings and whistles day to dark; He's but the remnant of a man, maimed and half-blind,
But the soul they could not harm goes singing like the lark, Like the incarnate Joy that will not be confined
The Lady at the Hall h...
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Easter

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Bring flowers to strew His way,
Yea, sing, make holiday;
Bid young lambs leap,
And earth laugh after sleep
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A Hero

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He was so foolish, the poor lad, He made superior people smile Who knew not of the wings he had Budding and growing all the while;
Nor that the laurel wreath was made Already for his curly head
Silly and childish in his ways; They said: ...
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To The Others

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This was the gleam then that lured from
Your son and my son to the Holy War:
Your son and my son for the
With the banner of Christ over them, in steel arrayed
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The Legend of St Austin and the Child

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St
Austin, going in thought Along the sea-sands gray,
Into another world was caught,
And Carthage far away
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Riding Home

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Who are these that go to the high peaks and the snow
Side by side do they ride, their steady eyes aglow
Gallant gentlemen, they go spurring o'er the plain; Home from the war again
As they pass without a sound, there is many a red wo...
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Mater Dei

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She looked to east, she looked to west,
Her eyes, unfathomable, mild,
That saw both worlds, came home to rest,­ Home to her own sweet child
God's golden head was at her breast
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For the Airmen

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OU who guidest the swallow and wren,
Keep the paths of the flying men
Over the mountains, over the seas Thou hast given the bird-folk compasses
Thou guidest them, yea,
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Joining The Colours

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RE they go marching all in step so gay
Smooth-cheeked and golden, food for shells and guns
Blithely they go as to a wedding day,
The mothers' sons
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The Call

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I hear an Army
Millions of men coming up from the edge of the world,
The ring of unnumbered feet ever louder and
Comes on and an like a mighty untameable tide,
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