Anna Johnston MacManus Poems

Like swords of battle the scythes were plying,
The corn lay low in a yellow rout,
When down the stubble, dew-wet and glinting,
...

She is my Dearest, and I take
My burdens to her gentle breast,
All doubts that fill my waking hours,
All troubles that beset my rest:
...

Set your love before me as a shield!
That, whistling by, the shadowy, wounding spear
Of the world's hate may seek my heart in vain,
...

Our hands are met for the parting; your path must lie afar,
Yet well my heart shall know the way that leads to where you are,
...

I would build myself a nest, a little downy nest,
And a warbler of the woodland I would wed–
...

Saw ye Neece O'Hagan,
By Moylena's Banks,
With his matchlock in his hand,
Foam on Rory's flanks?
...

Oh, when my Knight rode forth at morn,
The blue hills shone, sun-kissed, afar;
Oh, when my Knight was homeward borne,
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The war-pipes blow, and with joy I go from Aileach's Halls to the hosting-field,
I have roused my men from each Ulster glen in the ...
...

Oh, who is she, and what is she?
A beauty born eternally
Of shimmering moonshine, sunset flame,
And rose-red heart of dawn;
...

Weary on ye, sad waves!
Still scourging the lonely shore.
Oh, I am far from my father's door,
And my kindred's graves!
...