Thomas MacDonagh (Томас Макдона)

My Poet

--My poet the rose of his fancies
Wrought unwritten in verse,
And left but the lilies and pansies
To strew his early hearse.

--The master-dream of your poet
Has perished for ever then?
--What know we? Should we know it
If it were born again? 

1. Of the Man of My First Play
2. The Philistine
3. The Stars Stand up in the Air
4. To a Wise Man
5. Dublin Tramcars

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