Poems by Thomas Osborne Davis
Tone's Grave
... V. There were students and peasants, the wise and the brave, ...
The Geraldines
... Eochaill, What gorgeous shrines, what Brehon lore, what minstrel feasts there were ...
Self-Reliance
... Nor hide your chains in pleasure's garlands ...
Our Own Again
... III. Oft our fathers' hearts it stirred, ...
O'Connell's Statue
... Shine through the statesman's anxious face-- ...
My Grave
... Yet not there--nor in Greece, though I love it more, ...
The Boatman Of Kinsale
... III. The brawling squires may heed him not, ...
A Song For The Irish Militia
... V. Yet, 'tis not strength and 'tis not steel ...
The Burial
... THE VOW. "We have bent and borne, though we saw him torn from his home by the ...
The Lost Path
... _ I. Sweet thoughts, bright dreams, my comfort be, ...
Clare's Dragoons
... And bursting charge of Clare's Dragoons ...
We Must Not Fail
... III. We spurned the thought, our prison burst, ...
A Nation Once Again
... II. And, from that time, through wildest woe, ...
The Welcome
... Oh! your steps like the rain to the summer-vexd farmer, ...
The Battle Eve Of The Irish Brigade
... God prosper Old Ireland,youd think them afraid,&emsp ...
