Dora Sigerson Shorter

(1866-1918 / Ireland)

Dora Sigerson Shorter Poems

1. A Bird From The West 9/29/2010
2. A Careless Heart 9/29/2010
3. A Catholic To His Ulster Brother 9/29/2010
4. A Changeling 9/29/2010
5. A Misunderstanding 9/29/2010
6. A Moth 9/29/2010
7. A New Year 9/29/2010
8. A Recompense 9/29/2010
9. A Rose Will Fade 9/29/2010
10. A Friend In Need 9/29/2010
11. A Song For Evaleen 9/29/2010
12. A Weeping Cupid 9/29/2010
13. All Soul’s Eve 9/29/2010
14. All-Souls' Night 9/29/2010
15. An Eastern God 9/29/2010
16. An Eclipse 9/29/2010
17. An Epitaph 9/29/2010
18. An Imperfect Revolution 9/29/2010
19. An Irish Blackbird 9/29/2010
20. As The Sparks Fly Upward 9/29/2010
21. Ave Maria 9/29/2010
22. Beware 9/29/2010
23. Build No Roof-Tree 9/29/2010
24. But For The Tears 9/29/2010
25. By The Sea 9/29/2010
26. Cean Duv Deelish 9/29/2010
27. Cecilia’s Way 9/29/2010
28. Clouds 9/29/2010
29. Comfort The Women 9/29/2010
30. Conscription 9/29/2010
31. Cupid Slain 9/29/2010
32. Daisies 9/29/2010
33. Death Of Gormlaith 9/29/2010
34. Distant Voices 9/29/2010
35. Donacha Rua 9/29/2010
36. Earl Roderick’s Bride 9/29/2010
37. Eclipse 9/29/2010
38. Empire Building 9/29/2010
39. Faith 9/29/2010
40. False Dearvorgil 9/29/2010
Best Poem of Dora Sigerson Shorter

A Fantasy

I saw Winter 'neath a spindle tree,
She plucked berries bright to crown her head.
She was singing little robin's song
While wild beech-leaves round and round her spread.
I ran home into my little house,
Pulled to the shutters, barred up the door;
I knelt down to blow the fire to flame,
Great dark shadows danced upon the floor.
Long-legged shadows came from corners drear,
Leaped up white walls, fell, and climbed again.
I hear North Wind pushing at the gate,
I won't open, not for wind or rain.
Oh, run home, wee ones, lest the whirling leaves
Take ye far ...

Read the full of A Fantasy

A Bird From The West

At the grey dawn, amongst the falling leaves,
A little bird outside my window swung,
High on a topmost branch he trilled his song,
And ' Ireland! Ireland! Ireland!' ever sung.

“Take me,' I cried, 'back to my island home;
Sweet bird, my soul shall ride between thy wings ';
For my lone spirit wide his pinions spread, '
And home and home and home he ever sings.

[Hata Bildir]