| Poems by Women |
Ireland
'TWAS the dream of a God,
And the mould of His
hand,
That you shook 'neath His stroke,
That you trembled and
broke
To this beautiful land.
Here He loosed from His hold
A brown tumult of wings,
Till the
wind on the sea
Bore the strange melody
Of an island that sings.
He made you all fair,
You in purple and gold,
You in silver and
green,
Till no eye that has seen
Without love can behold.
I have left you behind
In the path of the past,
With the white
breath of flowers,
With the best of God's hours,
I have left you at last.
From: Quiller-Couch, Arthur.
The Oxford Book of Verse. (1900)
This poet:
[Author index]
This collection assembled by Jone Johnson Lewis.
Collection © 1999-2002 Jone Johnson Lewis.
Citing poems from these pages:
| Author. "Poem Title." Women's History: Poems by Women. Jone Johnson Lewis, editor. URL: (date of logon) |
