John Boyle O'Reilly

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

John Boyle O'Reilly Poems

121. The Old School Clock 5/20/2012
122. The Cry Of The Dreamer 5/20/2012
123. A Nation's Test 5/21/2012
124. My Native Land 5/20/2012
125. A Seed 5/20/2012
126. Rules Of The Road 5/21/2012
127. The Well's Secret 5/21/2012
128. Constancy 5/20/2012
129. A Passage 5/20/2012
130. Love's Sacrifice 5/21/2012
131. The Exile Of The Gael 5/20/2012
132. Love, And Be Wise 5/20/2012
133. 406 [unfinished] 5/20/2012
134. Crispus Attucks 5/20/2012
135. America 5/21/2012
136. A Dead Man 5/21/2012
137. Yesterday And Tomorrow 5/20/2012
138. A Tragedy 5/20/2012
139. A Savage 5/21/2012
140. A Message Of Peace 5/20/2012
141. A Man 5/20/2012
142. At Fredericksburg—dec. 13, 1862 5/21/2012
143. What Is Good 5/20/2012
144. A Builder's Lesson 5/20/2012
145. A Song For Soldiers 5/21/2012
146. A Lost Friend 5/20/2012
147. A Kiss 5/20/2012
148. Experience 12/31/2002
149. At Best 1/1/2004
150. An Old Picture 5/20/2012
151. A White Rose 12/31/2002

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.

    6 person liked.
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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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