Padraic Colum

Padraic Colum

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Padraic Colum (8 December 1881 – 11 January 1972) was an Irish poet, novelist, dramatist, biographer, playwright, children's author and collector of folklore. He was one of the leading figures of the Irish Literary Revival.
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She moved through the Fair

My young love said to me,"My mother won't
And my father won't slight
For your lack of kind
"And she stepped away from
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Verses For Alfeo Faggis Stations Of The Cross

RE Pilate's Court is:
None may clatter nor
Where the Wolf giving
To the Twins glares on all"Strip Him and scourge
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Polonius and the Ballad Singers

A gaunt built woman and her son-in-law— A broad-faced fellow, with such flesh as shows Nothing but easy nature—and his wife,
The woman’s daughter, who spills all her talk Out of a wide mouth, but who has eyes as gray As Connemara, where the m...
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An age being mathematical, these flowers Of linear stalks and spheroid blooms were prized By men with wakened, speculative minds,
And when with mathematics they explored The Macrocosm, and came at last to The Vital Spirit of the World, and na...
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HE birds that soar break
Like heavy bodies hurled
Not so the birds of
They move as in a
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RE is an hour, they say,
On which your dream has power:
Then all you wish for comes,
As comes the lost
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The Tin-Whistle Player

'Tis long since, long since, since I heardA tin-whistle played,
And heard the tunes, the ha'penny
That nobody made
The tunes that were before
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The City Clocks

HE City clocks point out the
They look like moons on their darkened towers-And I who was shown my
Thrice, but have no sense of location,
Am back again at one or the
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In Memory Of John Butler Yeats

HT," you said, "to-night, all Ireland
The curlews call
" The dinner-talk went on,
And I knew what you heard and what you saw,
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I Shall not Die for Thee

O woman, shapely as the swan,
On your account I shall not die:
The men you've slain — a trivial clan — Were less than I
I ask me shall I die for these — For blossom teeth and scarlet lips — And shall that delicate swan-shape Bring m...
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Old Men Complaining

First Old Man He threw his crutched stick down: there came Into his face the anger flame,
And he spoke viciously of one Who thwarted him—his son’s son
He turned his head away
—“I hate Absurdity of language, prate From growing fellows
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The Ballad Of Downal Baun

The moon-cradle's rocking and rocking,
Where a cloud and a cloud goes by:
Silently rocking and rocking,
The moon-cradle out in the sky
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She Moved Through the Faire

My young love said to me:
My mother won't mind,
And my father won't slight you for your lack of kind
She put her arms 'round me; these words she did say:
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A Connachtman

IT'S my fear that my wake won't be quiet,
Nor my wake house a silent place :
For who would keep back the
Who would touch my breast and my face
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The Poet

HE blackbird's in the briar,
The seagull's on the ground-They are nests, and they're more than nests," he said,"They are tokens I have found
There, where the rain-dashed
Marks an empty glade,
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The Plougher

Sunset and silence
A man: around him earth savage, earth broken;
Beside him two horses — a plough
Earth savage, earth broken, the brutes, the dawn man there in the sunset,
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