|
|
When law can stop the blades of grass from growing as they grow;
And when the leaves in Summer-time their colour dare not show;
Then will I change the colour too, I wear in my caubeen;
But till that day, plaze God, I'll stick to wearin' o' the Green.
Author: Unattributed Author
Source: Wearin' o' the Green (Shan-Van-Voght)
|
There came to the beach a poor Exile of Erin,
The dew on his thin robe was heavy and chill;
For his country he sigh'd, when at twilight repairing.
To wander along by the wind-beaten hill.
But the day star attracted his eyes' sad devotion,
For it rose o'er his own native isle of the ocean,
Where once in the fire of his youthful emotion
He sang the bold anthem of Erin-go-bragh.
Author: Thomas Campbell
Source: The Exile of Erin
|
There's a dear little plant that grows in our isle,
'Twas St. Patrick himself sure that set it;
And the sun on his labor with pleasure did smile,
And with dew from his eye often wet it.
It thrives through the bog, through the brake, and the mireland;
And he called it the dear little shamrock of Ireland--
The sweet little shamrock, the dear little shamrock,
The sweet little, green little, shamrock of Ireland!
Author: Andrew Cherry
Source: Green little Shamrock of Ireland
|
Dear Erin, how sweetly thy green bosom rises!
An emerald set in the ring of the sea.
Each blade of thy meadows my faithful heart prizes,
Thou queen of the west, the world's cushla ma chree.
Author: John Philpot Curran
Source: Cushla ma Chree
|
Arm of Erin, prove strong, but be gentle as brave,
And, uplifted to strike, still be ready to save;
Not one feeling of vengeance presume to defile
The cause or the men of the Emerald Isle.
Author: Dr. William Drennan
Source: Erin
|
When Erin first rose from the dark-swelling flood,
God blessed the green island, he saw it was good.
The Emerald of Europe, it sparkled and shone
In the ring of this world, the most precious stone.
Author: Dr. William Drennan
Source: Erin, supposed to be the origin of the term "Emerald Isle"
|
Every Irishman has a potatoe in his head.
Author: A.W. Hare and J.C. Hare
Source: Guesses at Truth
|
The dust of some is Irish earth,
Among their own they rest.
Author: John Kells Ingram
Source: Who Dares to Speak of Ninety-Eight
|
Old Dublin City there is no doubtin'
Bates every city upon the say.
'Tis there you'd hear O'Connell spoutin'
And Lady Morgan making tay.
For 'tis the capital of the finest nation,
With charmin' pisintry upon a fruitful sod,
Fightin' like devils for conciliation,
And hatin' each other for the Love of God.
Author: John Kells Ingram
Source: Who Dares to Speak of Ninety-Eight
|
Th' an'am an Dhia, but there it is--
The dawn on the hills of Ireland.
God's angels lifting the night's black veil
From the fair sweet face of my sireland!
O Ireland, isn't it grand, you look
Like a bride in her rich adornin',
And with all the pent up love of my heart
I bid you the top of the morning.
Author: John Locke
Source: The Exile's Return
|
O, love is the soul of a true Irishman;
He loves all that's lovely, loves all that he can,
With his sprig of shillelagh and shamrock so green.
Author: John Locke
Source: The Exile's Return
|
The groves of Blarney
They look so charming
Down by the purling
Of sweet, silent brooks.
Author: Richard Alfred Milliken (Millikin)
Source: Groves of Blarney
|
When anyone asks me about the Irish character, I say look at the
trees. Maimed, stark and misshapen, but ferociously tenacious.
Author: Richard Alfred Milliken (Millikin)
Source: Groves of Blarney
|
Why should Ireland be treated as a geographical fragment of
England . . . Ireland is not a geographical fragment, but a
nation.
Author: Charles Stewart Parnell
Source: in the House of Commons
|
There is a stone there,
That whoever kisses,
Oh! he never misses
To grow eloquent.
'Tis he may clamber
To a lady's chamber
Or become a member
Of Parliament.
Author: Father Prout (pseudonym of Francis Sylvester Mahony)
Source: his addition to "Groves of Blarney", in "Reliques of Father Prout"
|
Eternal is the fact that the human creature born in Ireland and
brought up in its air is Irish. I have lived for twenty years in
Ireland and for seventy-two in England; but the twenty came first
and in Britain I am still a foreigner and shall die one.
Author: George Bernard Shaw
Source: quoted in "Ireland in Mind", Alice Leccese Powers, ed. (2000)
|
An Irishman's heart is nothing but his imagination.
Author: George Bernard Shaw
Source: John Bull's Other Island
|
For dear is the Emerald Isle of the ocean,
Whose daughters are fair as the foam of the wave,
Whose sons unaccustom'd to rebel commotion,
Tho' joyous, are sober--tho' peaceful, are brave.
Author: Horace Smith and James Smith
Source: Rejected Addresses--Imitation of Moore
|
Whether on the scaffold high
Or on the battle-field we die,
Oh, what matter, when for Erin dear we fall.
Author: T.D. Sullivan
Source: God Save Ireland
|
There is no language like the Irish for soothing and quieting.
Author: John Millington Synge
Source: The Aran Islands
|
If one could only teach the English how to talk, and the Irish
how to listen, society would be quite civilized.
Author: John Millington Synge
Source: The Aran Islands
|
We . . . are no petty people. We are one of the great stocks of
Burke; we are the people of Swift, the people of Emmet, the
people of Parnell. We have created most of the modern literature
of this country. We have created the best of its political
intelligence.
Author: William Butler Yeats
Source: in a speech in the Irish Senate, June 11, 1925
|
