A Friend In Need

Who has room for a friend
Who has money to spend,
And a goblet of gold
For your fingers to hold,
At the wave of whose hand
Leap the salmon to land,
Drop the birds of the air,
Fall the stag and the hare.
Who has room for a friend
Who has money to lend?
            We have room for a friend!

Who has room for a friend
Who has nothing to lend,
When the goblet of gold
Is as far from his hold
As the fleet-footed hare,
Or the birds of the air.
Who has room for a friend
Who has nothing to spend?
            We know not such a friend.

Dora Sigerson Shorter

Dora Sigerson Shorter was an Irish poet and sculptor born in Dublin in 1866. She was one of the leading figures of the Irish Literary Revival, a movement that aimed to promote Irish literature and culture in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. She was also a close friend of W.B. Yeats and married the writer and journalist Clement King Shorter. Dora's work often dealt with themes of Irish nationalism and folklore, and she published several volumes of poetry before her untimely death in 1918.

Dora Sigerson Shorter

The Old Maid

Dora Sigerson Shorter, Simple Poetry

The Ballad Of The Little Black Hound

Dora Sigerson Shorter, Simple Poetry

The Wreckage

Dora Sigerson Shorter, Simple Poetry

The Ballad Of The Fairy Thorn-Tree

Dora Sigerson Shorter, Simple Poetry

English

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My Friend

I have a friend who came, I know not how,
Nor he. Among the crowd, apart,
I feel the pressure of his hand, and hear
In very truth the beating of his heart.

My soul had shut the door of abode,
So poor it seemed for any guest
To tarry there a night, until he came,
Asking, not entertainment, only rest.

Our hands were empty,-his and mine alike,
He says until they joined. I see
The gifts he brought; but where were mine
That he should say "I too have need of thee?"

Without the threshold of his heart I wait
Abashed, afraid to enter where
So radiant a company do meet,
Yet enter boldly, knowing I am there.

Whether his hand shall press my latch to-night,
To-morrow, matters not. He came
Unsummoned, he will come again; and I,
Though ...

Arthur Sherburne Hardy

The Old Maid

She walks in a lonely garden
        On the path her feet have made,
With high-heeled shoes, gold-buckled,
        And gown of a flowered brocade;

The hair that falls on her shoulders,
        Half-held with a ribbon tie,
Once glowed like the wheat in autumn,
        Now grey as a winter sky.

Time on her brow with rough fingers
        Writes his record of smiles and tears;
And her mind, like a golden timepiece,
        He stopped in the long past years.

At the foot of the lonely garden,
        When she comes to the trysting place
She knew of old, there she lingers,
        With a blush on her withered face.

The children out on the common:
        They climb to the garden wall;
And laugh: He will come to-morrow!
      ...

Dora Sigerson Shorter

I Have Some Friends

I have some friends, some worthy friends,
And worthy friends are rare:
These carpet slippers on my feet,
That padded leather chair;
This old and shabby dressing-gown,
So well the worse of wear.

I have some friends, some honest friends,
And honest friends are few;
My pipe of briar, my open fire,
A book that's not too new;
My bed so warm, the nights of storm
I love to listen to.

I have some friends, some good, good friends,
Who faithful are to me:
My wrestling partner when I rise,
The big and burly sea;
My little boat that's riding there
So saucy and so free.

I have some friends, some golden friends,
Whose worth will not decline:
A tawny Irish terrier, a purple shading pine,
A little red-roofed cottage that
So prou...

Robert William Service

Sore In Need Was I Of A Faithful Friend

Sore in need was I of a faithful friend,
    And it seemed to me that life
Had come to its much desired end -
    Just then God gave me a wife.

I had seen the beauty of fairy things,
    And seen the women walk;
I had heard the voice of the seven sins
    And all the wonderful talk.

Ah, the promising earth that seems so kind,
    And the comrades with outstretched hand -
But did you ever stand alone
    In a black, forsaken land?
Then the wonderful things that God can do
    One comes to understand:

How He turns the desert dust to a dream,
    And the lonely wind to a friend,
And makes a bright beginning
    Of what had seemed the end:
'Twas in such an hour God placed in mine
    The moonbeam hand of a friend.

Richard Le Gallienne

A Friend Indeed.

If every friend who meditates
    In soft, unspoken thought
With winning courtesy and tact
The doing of a kindly act
    To cheer some lonely lot,
Were like the friend of whom I dream,
Then hardship but a myth would seem.

If sympathy were always thus
    Oblivious of space,
And, like the tendrils of the vine,
Could just as lovingly incline
    To one in distant place,
'Twould draw the world together so
Might none the name of stranger know.

If every throb responsive that
    My ardent spirit thrills
Could, like the skylark's ecstasy,
Be vocal in sweet melody,
    Beyond dividing hills
In octaves of the atmosphere
Were music wafted to his ear.

If every friendship were like one,
    So helpful and so true,
To o...

Hattie Howard

Sanctuary

Neighbour! for pity a hound cries on your steps
        With pleading eyes, with sore and weary feet.
Neighbour! your pity a poor beast doth implore;
        Hunger and cold are busy in the street.
Then, neighbour! pause; tis no good work you do.
Off from my door!    I have no place for you.

Neighbour, your mercy!    A heart of love is here,
        Within this weary body-love is rare,
And seldom comes to cry before our door.
        Then open wide, and take your little share.
Love pleads to be your servant, leal and true.
Off from my step!    I have no place for you.

From step to step abused, from door to door,
        Whipped by the wind, and beaten by the rain,
With hunger at his throat, he passes on;
        Yet one who follows shares the creat...

Dora Sigerson Shorter