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'What ails you that you look so pale, O fisher of the sea?' ''Tis for a mournful tale I own, Fair maiden Marjorie.'…
Dora Sigerson (1866–1918) was an Irish poet, who after her marriage in 1895 wrote under the name Dora Sigerson Shorter. She was born in Dublin, Ireland, the daughter of George Sigerson, a surgeon and writer, and Hester (née Varian) also a writer. She was a major figure of the Irish Literary revival, publishing many collections of poetry from 1893. Her friends included Katharine Tynan, a noted Irish-born poet and author. Her husband was Clement King Shorter, an English journalist and literary critic. They lived together in London, until her death.)
Dora Sigerson Shorter şiirleri
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As I between the dusk and dark Walked down by Hampton Towers, I strayed upon the haunted path In the forbidden hours.…
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At the grey dawn, amongst the falling leaves, A little bird outside my window swung, High on a topmost branch he trilled his song, And ' Ireland! Ireland! Ireland!' ever sung.…
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The wind has blown my heart away All on a summer holiday. If you can find it, pray you tell, For this is how the loss befell…
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Is there no bond of blood to you, my brother? Who have called her ours, the ancient Mother, And here we hope to rest from Life's temptation Building of souls our patriotic Nation.…
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My Future lay cradled asleep; I kissed the sweet mouth and she smiled With a promise of all she should be, Womanhood crowning the child—…
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The starlings they have come to town, With polka dots on their robes of brown; They sit a crowd on the old plane tree, And sing this quaint old melody…
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Kine, kine, in the meadows, why do you low so piteously? High is the grass to your knees and wet with the dew of the morn, Sweet with the perfume of honey, and breath of the clover…
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Prince Charming, when the wizard's wand Had wrecked for aye my fairyland; Had razed my castles to the earth, And killed my child heart with his mirth;…
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I saw Winter 'neath a spindle tree, She plucked berries bright to crown her head. She was singing little robin's song While wild beech-leaves round and round her spread.…
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Who has room for a friend Who has money to spend, And a goblet of gold For your fingers to hold,…
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A little dog disturbed my trust in Heaven. I praised most faithfully All the great things that be, Man's pain and pleasure even;…
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I cried all night to you, I called till day was here; Perhaps you could not come, Or were too tirèd, dear.…
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O MOTHER, mother, I swept the hearth, I set his chair and the white board spread, I prayed for his coming to our kindly Lady when Death's doors would let out the dead; A strange wi…
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Droop all the flowers in my garden, All their fair heads hang low; For rose, their fairest companion, Never again will they know.…
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