Katharine Tynan

[Katharine Tynan Hinkson, Katharine Tynan-Hinkson, Katharine Hinkson-Tynan] (23 January 1861 - 2 Apirl 1931 / 23 January 1861 – 2 April 1931)

Katharine Tynan Poems

81. The Bride 4/14/2010
82. The Convent Garden 4/14/2010
83. The Crown 4/14/2010
84. The Dead Coach 4/14/2010
85. The Brothers (For Arnold And Donald Fletcher) 4/14/2010
86. The Great Chance 4/14/2010
87. The Great May 4/14/2010
88. The Great Sorrow 4/14/2010
89. The Last Question: (For B. A. Bingham) 4/14/2010
90. The Colonists 4/14/2010
91. The Father 4/14/2010
92. The Dream: (For My Father) 4/14/2010
93. For The Airmen 4/14/2010
94. Unhousel'D, Unanointed, Unanel'D 4/14/2010
95. High Summer 4/14/2010
96. Mater Dei 1/3/2003
97. The Choice 4/14/2010
98. What She Said 4/14/2010
99. The Dear Brown Head 4/14/2010
100. The Sad Spring 4/14/2010
101. Vigil 4/14/2010
102. The Old Love 4/14/2010
103. Resurrection 4/14/2010
104. Easter 1/3/2003
105. The Fields Of France 4/14/2010
106. Distraction 4/14/2010
107. When You Come Home 4/14/2010
108. The Gardener 4/14/2010
109. The Vestal 4/14/2010
110. The Mother Of Three 4/14/2010
111. Slow Spring 1/3/2003
112. What Turned The Germans Back 4/14/2010
113. The Garden 4/14/2010
114. The Heart Of A Boy 4/14/2010
115. Unfit 4/14/2010
116. The Nurse 1/3/2003
117. The Golden Boy 4/14/2010
118. The Only Child 1/3/2003
119. Joining The Colours 4/14/2010
120. The Great Mercy 4/14/2010

Comments about Katharine Tynan

  • Charles Vaclavik (10/28/2012 2:52:00 PM)

    I would like to confirm that Katharine Tynan wrote the following, and in which poem.
    Far in the fields of France,
    My dear love lies asleep,
    But not for that my tears,
    Because he killed, I weep.

    Thank you,
    Charles Vaclavik
    Kaweah10@yahoo.com

    15 person liked.
    8 person did not like.
Best Poem of Katharine Tynan

A Song Of Spring

The Spring comes slowly up this way,
Slowly, slowly,
Under a snood of hodden grey.

The black and white for her array,
Slowly, slowly,
The Spring comes slowly up this way.

Where is her green that was so gay?
Slowly, slowly,
The Spring comes slowly up this way.

Unto a world too sick for May,
Slowly, slowly,
The Spring comes slowly up this way.

Where are the lads that used to play?
Slowly, slowly,
The Spring comes slowly up this way.

She has no heart for holiday,
Slowly, slowly,
The Spring comes slowly up this way.

The ...

Read the full of A Song Of Spring

The Foggy Dew

A splendid place is London, with golden store,
For them that have the heart and hope and youth galore;
But mournful are its streets to me, I tell you true,
For I'm longing sore for Ireland in the foggy dew.

The sun he shines all day here, so fierce and fine,
With never a wisp of mist at all to dim his shine;
The sun he shines all day here from skies of blue:
He hides his face in Ireland in the foggy dew.

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