Legends and Poems

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Sealy, Bryers & Walker, 1907 - Folklore - 552 pages

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Page 17 - And decks the lily fair in flowery pride, Would, in the way His wisdom sees the best, For them and for their little ones provide; But chiefly, in their hearts with grace divine preside.
Page 499 - I'll not forget my early friends, Nor honest Caoch O'Leary. Poor Caoch and "Pinch" slept well that night, And in the morning early He called me up to hear him play "The wind that shakes the barley;" And then he stroked my flaxen hair, And cried, "God mark my deary!
Page 499 - ... twenty summers had gone past, And June's red sun was sinking, When I, a man, sat by my door, Of twenty sad things thinking. A little dog came up the way, His gait was slow and weary, And at his tail a lame man limped — Twas
Page 530 - Wexford ; that the girl had lost her sight in brain fever, in her childhood ; that all human means had been tried for her cure, but in vain ; and that now, as a last resource, they had travelled all the way to pray at the shrine of St. John, and bathe her sightless orbs in the healing waters of his well. It is believed that when Heaven wills the performance of cures, the sky opens above the well, at the hour of midnight, and Christ, the Virgin Mother, and St. John...
Page 500 - And I'll go home to-morrow. My 'peace is made' — I'll calmly leave This world so cold and dreary, And you shall keep my pipes and dog, And pray for Caoch O'Leary." With "Pinch," I watched his bed that night, Next day, his wish was granted ; He died — and Father James was brought, And the Requiem Mass was chanted, — The neighbors came ; — we dug his grave, Near Eily, Kate, and Mary, And there he sleeps his last sweet sleep, — God rest you, Caoch O'Leary.
Page 493 - The bodach, he never dare call me a knave. From my mother's mud sheeling an outcast I fly, With a cloud on my heart and a tear in my eye ; Oh ! I burn as I think that if Some One would say
Page 498 - Grey-headed, blind, and yellow : And, oh ! how glad was my young heart, Though earth and sky looked dreary, To see the stranger and his dog — Poor ' Pinch,' and Caoch* O'Leary. And when he stowed away his ' bag,' Cross-barred with green and yellow, I thought and said, ' In Ireland's ground There's not so fine a fellow.
Page 179 - By all that from thy prophet broke, In thy divine emotions spoke ! Hither again thy fury deal, Teach me but once like him to feel : His cypress wreath my meed decree, And I, O Fear, will dwell with thee ! ODE TO EVENING.
Page 489 - Set a beggar on horseback and he'll ride to the devil'. The Grantstown tailor soon gave up 'stitching.' He took farm after farm for his children, yet he continued to reside several years after, in his cabin by the lake. But he is not there now. Himself and his wife, after settling all their elder children in the world...
Page 163 - There came a hand to my lonely latch, Like the wind at midnight moaning : I knelt to pray, but rose again, For I heard my little boy groaning ; I...

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