Then the Frozen Pole would go, Tossing off his fields of snow, And would shake delighted feet With the girls of George's Street. These, if women only were Half as kind as they are fair. HOLLES STREET Through the air, Everywhere, the rain is falling; Brawling on house and tree: On every place that you can see The rain drops go; The roofs are wet, the walls, the ground below. Midnight has come; Now all the people stretch them blind and dumb Each in a bed Save I, who sit and listen overhead Unto the rain Splashing upon the roof and window-pane. Midnight! and I Can get no sleep, nor can the sky. KATTY GOLLAGHER The hill is bare: I only find The grass, the sky, and one small tree Tossing wildly on the wind; And that is all there is to see: A tree, a hill, a wind, a sky Where nothing ever passes by. CORK HILL Come all ye happy children, and Gather round me hand in hand, Dancing to the merry cry, "See the Robbers Passing By." Past the Castle we will dance To the Mansion House, and prance Back by George's Street and cry, "See the Robbers Passing By." Gather then ye children all Into ranks processional, Marching to the merry cry, "See the Robbers Passing By." THE PIPER 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. THE SHADOW Silence comes upon the night, Gone is all the cheerful day, The moon has disappeared from sight, Every star has gone away. Sinking through the void, and thence Disappearing, star and sky, In the stern and black immense That has blinded every eye. Silence crouches on the land, In the street a shadow lies Cloaked in velvet wrappings, and With a mask upon her eyes. Anonymous and terrible Mother of the primal ray, Only night because thou art In thyself excess of day. CUSTOM HOUSE QUAY When a Dublin man shall say, "Give me a little bread, I pray," If you do not give him bread You will be hungry when he is fed. And let no priest or magistrate Scowl upon the poor man's plate, Asking him the question sly To which no one can reply. STEPHEN'S GREEN The wind stood up and gave a shout; He whistled on his fingers, and Kicked the withered leaves about And thumped the branches with his hand, And said he'd kill, and kill, and kill, And so he will, and so he will. THE COLLEGE OF SURGEONS As I stood at the door Sheltered out of the wind, Something flew in Which I hardly could find.