Alice Guerin Crist

(6 February 1876 - 13 June 1941 / Clare Castle)

Alice Guerin Crist Poems

1. The Courtship Of Young John 4/5/2010
2. The Old Days - And The New 4/5/2010
3. The Way Of The Bush 4/5/2010
4. The Young Rebel 4/5/2010
5. West Of Fanny O'Dea's 4/5/2010
6. When Rody Came To Ironbark 4/5/2010
7. The Voyage 4/5/2010
8. The Latest Martyr (Mexico 1926) 4/5/2010
9. The Ride Of Rody Burke 4/5/2010
10. The Silver Box 4/5/2010
11. The Water-Witch 4/5/2010
12. Old Tin Liz 1/1/2004
13. Grass 4/5/2010
14. Himself 4/5/2010
15. Homesick 4/5/2010
16. In Winter 4/5/2010
17. Milestones 4/5/2010
18. Brother Wind 4/5/2010
19. Christmas Welcome 4/5/2010
20. “o’shea” 4/5/2010
21. O’grady’s Little Girl 4/5/2010
22. Bid Mccrae 4/5/2010
23. November In Ireland 1/1/2004
24. A Song Of Delight 4/5/2010
25. Murtagh The Cobbler 4/5/2010
26. A Young Rebel 4/5/2010
27. Adventure 4/5/2010
28. The Banshee 4/5/2010
29. A Letter From Palestine 4/5/2010
30. Sixty Years Ago 4/5/2010
31. Enniskillen 4/5/2010
32. The First School Day 4/5/2010
33. Fairies 4/5/2010
34. A Dream Of Heaven 4/5/2010
35. Resurrection 1/1/2004
36. Croquet 4/5/2010
37. Afterglow 1/1/2004

Comments about Alice Guerin Crist

  • Mark Meck (10/18/2019 2:22:00 AM)

    Such a well painted picture of heaven in poem. I love it.

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Best Poem of Alice Guerin Crist

Fairies

They don’t believe in fairies,
Those old folk wide and staid,
They’ve never caught the glitter
Of their wings in forest shade.

For them the bush is just a place
Of timber, cows and corn,
They’ve never been up our creek
On a cool November morn.

From mossy banks all dotted
With violets breaking through,
Beneath the frondled maidenhair
Their shy eyes peep at you.

They sleep ‘neath tasselled tea-trees,
The drowsy summer day,
Where the tiny crimson love-birds
Around them dart and play.

The dew-drenched nights of Summer,
When ...

Read the full of Fairies

Old Tin Liz

We have scrubbed, and scoured and polished, till she's looking just like new,
And her good old engines singing, and our hearts are singing too,
While the magpies pipe a chorus, and the air's like a sparkling fizz.
And we're going to the races in the Old Tin Liz.

T'was the first car in the district, how we swelled our chests with pride,
As we asked our poorer neighbours to step up and take a ride,
Now they pass us by, disdainful, in the newest make there is,
Wondering why we cling so fai

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