All things uncomely and broken, all things worn out and old

Although you hide in the ebb and flow

Be you still, be you still, trembling heart

Cumhal called out, bending his head

Danann children laugh, in cradles of wrought gold, The

Dews drop slowly and dreams gather: unknown spears, The

Do you not hear me calling, white deer with no horns!

Far off, most secret, and inviolate Rose

Fasten your hair with a golden pin

Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths

Half close your eyelids, loosen your hair

Host is riding from Knocknarea, The

I bring you with reverent hands

I dreamed that I stood in a valley, and amid sighs

If this importunate heart trouble your peace

I have drunk ale from the Country of the Young

I hear the Shadowy Horses, their long manes a-shake

I rise in the dawn, and I kneel and blow

I wander by the edge

I went out to the hazel wood

Jester walked in the garden, The

O cloud-pale eyelids, dream-dimmed eyes

O, colleens, kneeling by your altar rails long hence

O, curlew, cry no more in the air

O’Driscoll drove with a song

O sweet everlasting Voices be still

Out-worn heart, in a time out-worn

O what to me the little room

O where is our Mother of Peace

Pale brows, still hands and dim hair

Powers whose name and shape no living creature knows, The

Though you are in your shining days

Time drops in decay

Were you but lying cold and dead

When I play on my fiddle in Dooney

When my arms wrap you round I press

When the flaming lute-thronged angelic door is wide