Many A Poor Soul Has Had To

It Was Among Farmers And Potato Diggers And Old Men In Workhouses And Beggars At My Own Door That I Found What Was Beyond These And Yet Farther Beyond That Drawingroom Poet Of My Childhood In The Expression Of Love, And Grief, And The Pain Of Parting, That Are The Disclosure Of The Individual Soul.

The Time The Moon Is Going Back, The Blood That Is In A Person Does Be Weakening, But When The Moon Is Strong, The Blood That Moves Strong In The Same Way. And It To Be At The Full, It Drags The Wits Along With It, The Same As It Drags The Tide.

In Writing A Little Tragedy, 'the Gaol Gate,' I Made The Scenario In Three Lines, 'he Is An Informer; He Is Dead; He Is Hanged.' I Wrote That Play Very Quickly.

From The Sons Of Ith, The First Of The Gael To Get His Death In Ireland, There Came In The After Time Fathadh Canaan, That Got The Sway Over The Whole World From The Rising To The Setting Sun, And That Took Hostages Of The Streams And The Birds And The Languages.

My Husband Was In The War Of The Crimea. It Is Terrible The Hardships He Went Through‚ To Be Two Months Without Going Into A House‚ Under The Snow In Trenches. And No Food To Get‚ Maybe A Biscuit In The Day. And There Was Enough Food There‚ He Said‚ To Feed All Ireland; But Bad Management‚ They Could Not Get It.