Dora Sigerson Shorter

(1866-1918 / Ireland)

Dora Sigerson Shorter Poems

1. A Bird From The West 9/29/2010
2. A Careless Heart 9/29/2010
3. A Catholic To His Ulster Brother 9/29/2010
4. A Changeling 9/29/2010
5. A Misunderstanding 9/29/2010
6. A Moth 9/29/2010
7. A New Year 9/29/2010
8. A Recompense 9/29/2010
9. A Rose Will Fade 9/29/2010
10. A Friend In Need 9/29/2010
11. A Song For Evaleen 9/29/2010
12. A Weeping Cupid 9/29/2010
13. All Soul’s Eve 9/29/2010
14. All-Souls' Night 9/29/2010
15. An Eastern God 9/29/2010
16. An Eclipse 9/29/2010
17. An Epitaph 9/29/2010
18. An Imperfect Revolution 9/29/2010
19. An Irish Blackbird 9/29/2010
20. As The Sparks Fly Upward 9/29/2010
21. Ave Maria 9/29/2010
22. Beware 9/29/2010
23. Build No Roof-Tree 9/29/2010
24. But For The Tears 9/29/2010
25. By The Sea 9/29/2010
26. Cean Duv Deelish 9/29/2010
27. Cecilia’s Way 9/29/2010
28. Clouds 9/29/2010
29. Comfort The Women 9/29/2010
30. Conscription 9/29/2010
31. Cupid Slain 9/29/2010
32. Daisies 9/29/2010
33. Death Of Gormlaith 9/29/2010
34. Distant Voices 9/29/2010
35. Donacha Rua 9/29/2010
36. Earl Roderick’s Bride 9/29/2010
37. Eclipse 9/29/2010
38. Empire Building 9/29/2010
39. Faith 9/29/2010
40. False Dearvorgil 9/29/2010
Best Poem of Dora Sigerson Shorter

The Human Touch

She made roses all the day for pretty ladies' wear,
All through the patient hours, half into the night.
Dragged into a hurried knot all her dusty hair,
Eyes foolish with fatigue, straining to the light.
Pretty ladies roamed away over land and sea,
Talked on foreign boulevard, laughed in gay bazaar;
Followed summer's sunny road planning times to be,
Happy hours of holiday, as the seasons are.
She made roses all the day for pretty ladies' wear,
All through the long day, half into the night.
Followed all the toiling hours with a dumb despair
Lest they overtake her...

Read the full of The Human Touch

A Bird From The West

At the grey dawn, amongst the falling leaves,
A little bird outside my window swung,
High on a topmost branch he trilled his song,
And ' Ireland! Ireland! Ireland!' ever sung.

“Take me,' I cried, 'back to my island home;
Sweet bird, my soul shall ride between thy wings ';
For my lone spirit wide his pinions spread, '
And home and home and home he ever sings.

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