Quotes

As the white low mist the meadows kissed

In the summer twilight's glow,

And the otter splashed and the wild duck dashed

In the sedgy lake below.

'Twas sweet to hear the silver bell

For the flocks on high Dunroe.

Despite what you have heard: Guinness is not a meal.

The logic of the Irish mind takes naturally, therefore, the form of rhetoric or oratory.

No one can look over the fugitive literature of Dublin in the first half of the eighteenth century without being struck with the very large amount of admirable witty and satirical poetry that was produced.