Alfred Perceval Graves

  • The Little Red Lark

    O Swan of slenderness,
    Dove of tenderness,
      Jewel of joys, arise!
    The little red lark,
    Like a soaring spark
      Of song, to his sunburst flies;
    But till thou art arisen,
    Earth is a prison,
      Full of my lonesome sighs:
    Then...

  • The Irish Spinning-Wheel

                    SHOW me a sight,
                    Bates for delight
    An ould Irish wheel wid a young Irish girl at it.
                    Oh no!
                    Nothing you ’ll show
    Aquals her sittin’ an’ takin’ a whirl at it.

                    Look at...