John Boyle O'Reilly

(28 June 1844 - 10 August 1890 / Dowth Castle, County Meath)

John Boyle O'Reilly Poems

1. The White Rose 1/2/2015
2. Haunted By Tigers 5/21/2012
3. Released—january, 1878 5/21/2012
4. Ensign Epps, The Color-Bearer 5/21/2012
5. Grant—1885 5/21/2012
6. Macarius The Monk 5/21/2012
7. The Treasure Of Abram 5/21/2012
8. The Trial Of The Gods 5/21/2012
9. Midnight—september 19, 1881 5/21/2012
10. Muley Malak 5/21/2012
11. The King’s Evil 5/21/2012
12. Ireland - 1882 5/21/2012
13. Resurgite!- June, 1877 5/21/2012
14. The Wail Of Two Cities 5/21/2012
15. The Patriot's Game 5/21/2012
16. The Loss Of The Emigrants 5/21/2012
17. Hidden Sins 5/21/2012
18. Uncle Ned’s Tales: How The Flag Was Saved 5/21/2012
19. John Mitchel 5/21/2012
20. Though It Lash The Shallows That Line The Beach 5/21/2012
21. Prologue To Western Australia 5/21/2012
22. Uncle Ned’s Tale: An Old Dragoon's Story 5/21/2012
23. The Last Of The Narwhale 5/21/2012
24. Vignettes 5/20/2012
25. Jacqueminots 5/20/2012
26. The Loving Cup Of The Papyrus 5/20/2012
27. The Lure 5/21/2012
28. Star-Gazing 5/21/2012
29. The Priceless Thing 5/21/2012
30. The Word And The Deed 5/21/2012
31. Mary 5/21/2012
32. Wheat Grains 5/21/2012
33. The Statues In The Block 5/21/2012
34. The Empty Niche 5/21/2012
35. The City Streets 5/21/2012
36. The Priests Of Ireland 5/21/2012
37. Liberty 5/21/2012
38. The Mutiny Of The Chains 5/21/2012
39. There Is Blood On The Earth 5/21/2012
40. The Celebes 5/21/2012

Comments about John Boyle O'Reilly

  • NEAL 251 (6/17/2005 8:10:00 AM)

    I LIKE JOHN BOYLE OREILLY. HE IS NOT THE GREATEST POET. HE WAS A RENAISANCE MAN. HE WAS A SOLDIER, A WRITER, A REVOLUTIONARY AND OBVIOUSLY A ROMANTIC. THE POEM I LIKE BEST IS A WHITE ROSE. HE KIND OF REMINDS ME OF ME. I LIKE TO READ AND LOVE ART LOVE MUSIC BUT I AM AN ATHLETE, A SOLDIER AND A FIREARMS ENTHUSIAST BUT A ROMANTIC AS WELL.

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Best Poem of John Boyle O'Reilly

A White Rose

THE red rose whispers of passion,
And the white rose breathes of love;
O, the red rose is a falcon,
And the white rose is a dove.

But I send you a cream-white rosebud
With a flush on its petal tips;
For the love that is purest and sweetest
Has a kiss of desire on the lips

Read the full of A White Rose

406 [unfinished]

I do not know the meaning of the sign,
But bend before its power, as a reed bends
When the black tornado fills the valley to the lips.
Three times in twenty years its shape has come
On lines of fire on the black veil of mystery;
At first, tho' strange, it seemed familiar,
And lingered on the mind as if at rest;
The second time if flashed a thrill came, too,
For supernature spoke, or tried to speak;

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