Katharine Tynan Poems

Here in the garden-bed,
Hoeing the celery,
Wonders the Lord has made
Pass ever before me.
...

The house where I was born,
Where I was young and gay,
Grows old amid its corn,
Amid its scented hay.
...

All in the April evening,
April airs were abroad;
The sheep with their little lambs
Passed me by on the road.
...

He was so foolish, the poor lad,
He made superior people smile
Who knew not of the wings he had
Budding and growing all the while;
...

Now when Christ died for man his sake
A myriad men must die;
His Via Crucis they must take
And share His Calvary.
...

Out upon the sand-dunes thrive the coarse long grasses;
Herons standing knee-deep in the brackish pool;
Overhead the sunset fire and flame amasses
And the moon to eastward rises pale and cool.
...

I would not like to live to be very old,
To be stripped cold and bare
Of all my leafage that was green and gold
In the delicious air.
...

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.
...

'What's the news? Now tell it me.'
'Allenby again advances.'
'No, it is not Allenby
But my boy, straight as a lance is.
...

LORD, when they come back again
From the dreadful battlefield
To the common ways of men,
Be Thy mercy, Lord, revealed!
...