Inis Fál

    Now may we turn aside and dry our tears,
    And comfort us, and lay aside our fears,
    For all is gone, all comely quality,
    All gentleness and hospitality,
    All courtesy and merriment is gone;
    Our virtues all are withered every one,
    Our music vanished and our skill to sing:
    Now may we quiet us and quit our moan,
    Nothing is whole that could be broke; no thing
    Remains to us of all that was our own.

James Stephens

James Stephens was an Irish novelist and poet, whose literary output includes many retellings of Irish myths and fairy tales. He was born on February 9, 1880, and passed away on December 26, 1950. Notable works include 'The Crock of Gold' and 'The Demi-Gods'. Stephens also wrote several well-regarded collections of poetry, including 'The Hill of Vision' and 'Insurrections'. His work is characterized by a blend of myth, fantasy, and modernism, capturing the spirit and culture of Ireland.

James Stephens

By Ana Liffey (The Rocky Road To Dublin)

James Stephens, Simple Poetry

The Dodder Bank (The Rocky Road To Dublin)

James Stephens, Simple Poetry

Dunphy's Corner (The Rocky Road To Dublin)

James Stephens, Simple Poetry

Nancy Walsh

James Stephens, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

Anthony O'Daly

    Since your limbs were laid out
        The stars do not shine,
    The fish leap not out
        In the waves.
    On our meadows the dew
        Does not fall in the morn,
    For O'Daly is dead:
        Not a flower can be born,
    Not a word can be said,
        Not a tree have a leaf;
    Anthony, after you
        There is nothing to do,
    There is nothing but grief.

James Stephens

O'Bruaidar

    I will sing no more songs: the pride of my country I sang
        Through forty long years of good rhyme, without any avail;
    And no one cared even as much as the half of a hang
        For the song or the singer, so here is an end to the tale.

    If a person should think I complain and have not got the cause,
        Let him bring his eyes here and take a good look at my hand,
    Let him say if a goose-quill has calloused this poor pair of paws
        Or the spade that I grip on and dig with out there in the land?

    When the great ones were safe and renowned and were rooted and tough,
        Though my mind went to them and took joy in the fortune of those,
    And pride in their pride and their fame, they gave little enough,
        Not as much as two boots f...

James Stephens

A Poem Written In Time Of Trouble By An Irish Priest Who Had Taken Orders In France

My thoughts, my grief! are without strength
My spirit is journeying towards death
My eyes are as a frozen sea
My tears my daily food;
There is nothing in life but only misery.
My poor heart is torn
And my thoughts are sharp wounds within me,
Mourning the miserable state of Ireland.

Misfortune has come upon us all together
The poor, the rich, the weak and the strong
The great lord by whom hundreds were maintained
The powerful strong man, and the man that holds the plough;
And the cross laid on the bare shoulder of every man.

Our feasts are without any voice of priests
And none at them but women lamenting
Tearing their hair with troubled minds
Keening miserably after the Fenians.

The pipes of our organs are broken
Our harps have lost ...

Isabella Augusta, Lady Gregory

Now, O Now, In This Brown Land

Now, O now, in this brown land
Where Love did so sweet music make
We two shall wander, hand in hand,
Forbearing for old friendship sake,
Nor grieve because our love was gay
Which now is ended in this way.

A rogue in red and yellow dress
Is knocking, knocking at the tree;
And all around our loneliness
The wind is whistling merrily.
The leaves, they do not sigh at all
When the year takes them in the fall.

Now, O now, we hear no more
The vilanelle and roundelay!
Yet will we kiss, sweetheart, before
We take sad leave at close of day.
Grieve not, sweetheart, for anything,
The year, the year is gathering.

James Joyce

Eileen, Diarmuid And Teig

    Be kind unto these three, O King!
    For they were fragrant-skinned, cheerful and giving;
    Three stainless pearls, three of mild, winning ways,
    Three candles sending forth three pleasant rays,
    Three vines, three doves, three apples from a bough,
    Three graces in a house, three who refused nohow
    Help to the needy, three of slenderness,
    Three memories for the companionless,
    Three strings of music, three deep holes in clay,
    Three lovely children who loved Christ alway,
    Three mouths, three hearts, three minds beneath a stone;
    Ruin it is! three causes for the moan
    That rises everywhere now they are gone:
    Be kind, O King, unto this two and one!

James Stephens

The Piper (The Rocky Road To Dublin)

    Shepherd! while the lambs do feed,
        And you rest beneath a tree,
    Pipe upon an oaten reed
        Merrily and merrily.

    Should it rain do not forbear,
        Rain comes from the happy sky,
    Tune us now a quiet air
        Till the shower passes by.

    Back the sun will come in gold!
        Pipe away, my dear, until
    Evening brings the lambs to fold,
        You may weep then if you will.

James Stephens