Potential Titles: T.M. [Tom] Kettle

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Filled your streets with your comic Pentecost - T.M. Kettle "Asquith in Dublin"

Chills the adieux of our defeated sun - T.M. Kettle "Ballad Autumnal"

Lift your heart up out of Acheron - T.M. Kettle "Ballad Autumnal l'Envoi"

There is shipwreck everywhere - T.M. Kettle "Dedication Sonnet to My Wife"

The exquisite Roman's rich despair - T.M. Kettle "Dedication Sonnet to My Wife"

Too high in death for that ignoble pen - T.M. Kettle "Dedication Sonnet to My Wife"

Your golden lie of Tir-na-n'Og - T.M. Kettle "Dedication Sonnet to My Wife"

An inconstant April laughing into May - T.M. Kettle "Dreams and Duty"

The aftergust of March storms laid away - T.M. Kettle "Dreams and Duty"

Let us dream among the daisies - T.M. Kettle "Dreams and Duty"

Let us twine a wreath of science - T.M. Kettle "Dreams and Duty"

Mocked us from the usurped throne - T.M. Kettle "Dreams and Duty"

Famine of sleep in his eyes - T.M. Kettle "Ennui"

The trooping ghosts of hate - T.M. Kettle "The House of Lords: An Epitaph"

If souls were crooked, swords were true - T.M. Kettle "The House of Lords: An Epitaph"

This idle whiff of nothingness - T.M. Kettle "The House of Lords: An Epitaph"

Leads on the loud, victorious drums - T.M. Kettle "The House of Lords: An Epitaph"

I plucked down Sirius like a pear - T.M. Kettle "The Lady of Life"

Inked clouds and absolute eclipse - T.M. Kettle "The Lady of Life"

The streaming torch of suns - T.M. Kettle "The Lady of Life"

Knocked the paint off a rainbow - T.M. Kettle "The Lost Ball"

Antartic [sic] crystals were broken by its fall - T.M. Kettle "The Lost Ball"

The drowse malign is broken - T.M. Kettle "A Nation's Freedom"

Sundered from light and pardon - T.M. Kettle "A Nation's Freedom"

Spendthrifts of blood from our cradle - T.M. Kettle "A Nation's Freedom"

Paying the price of the dreams that cannot sleep - T.M. Kettle "A Nation's Freedom"

And the ways narrow down to decision - T.M. Kettle "A Nation's Freedom"

Hill and sea grew to an altar - T.M. Kettle "On Leaving Ireland (July 14, 1916)"

The cynical and staining touch - T.M. Kettle "On Leaving Ireland (July 14, 1916)"

Against the great sun's burial - T.M. Kettle "On Leaving Ireland (July 14, 1916)"

Who broke the sin that Bonaparte planned - T.M. Kettle "Paddy (After Mr. Kipling)"

The call that crowns the shrapnel dance - T.M. Kettle "Paddy (After Mr. Kipling)"

Tears will betray all pride - T.M. Kettle "Parnell"

Nor the slipped hound of hate track that soul's secret ways - T.M. Kettle "Parnell"

Where all world-wounds are healed - T.M. Kettle "Parnell"

A flaming coal lit at the stars - T.M. Kettle "Parnell"

Limned in his blood across your clearing skies - T.M. Kettle "Parnell"

Trumpet and drum of onset and attack - T.M. Kettle "Reason in Rhyme"

Where hunger claims to be the honoured guest - T.M. Kettle "Reason in Rhyme"

Watching the unreturning ships go forth - T.M. Kettle "Reason in Rhyme"

Conflict crowned and drowned in olives of peace - T.M. Kettle "Reason in Rhyme"

Must come with all her history on her head - T.M. Kettle "Reason in Rhyme"

To tear your flag down in the bitter years - T.M. Kettle "Reason in Rhyme"

A seed that broadening splits the rock - T.M. Kettle "A Song of Vengeance for Commandant Scheepers (Murdered January 18. 1902)"

The fairies spin the threads of night - T.M. Kettle "Sowing (Written in 1899)"

Pour their vials of sour blight - T.M. Kettle "Sowing (Written in 1899)"

With master hands I despoil all - T.M. Kettle "Sowing (Written in 1899)"

His hoarded sweetneess and his gall - T.M. Kettle "Sowing (Written in 1899)"

I crush the aeons for my thirst - T.M. Kettle "Sowing (Written in 1899)"

Pencils of fire limn visions of soul-large desire - T.M. Kettle "Sowing (Written in 1899)"

An obscure life of sweat and tears - T.M. Kettle "Sowing (Written in 1899)"

And judge them gifts of kindly chance - T.M. Kettle "Sowing (Written in 1899)"

While the mad guns curse overhead - T.M. Kettle "To My Daughter Betty, the Gift of God (Elizabeth Dorothy)"

With mud for couch and floor - T.M. Kettle "To My Daughter Betty, the Gift of God (Elizabeth Dorothy)"

In this blank, twilight time - T.M. Kettle "To Young Ireland (Written in 1899)"

When hearts are sere and pithless - T.M. Kettle "To Young Ireland (Written in 1899)"

Child of earth's primal fire - T.M. Kettle "To Young Ireland (Written in 1899)"

From waste lands sown with rancour - T.M. Kettle "To Young Ireland (Written in 1899)"

Search them with the proving flame - T.M. Kettle "To Young Ireland (Written in 1899)"

My harp is harsh of utterance - T.M. Kettle "To Young Ireland (Written in 1899)"

While Kipling's banjo strings blaspheme a sacred text - T.M. Kettle "Ulster (A Reply to Rudyard Kipling)"

A bucketful of Boyne to put the sunrise out - T.M. Kettle "Ulster (A Reply to Rudyard Kipling)"

Not slain by Cromwell's sword - T.M. Kettle "Ulster (A Reply to Rudyard Kipling)"

Union of plough and loom have bound us - T.M. Kettle "Ulster (A Reply to Rudyard Kipling)"

Life rescued and made fair - T.M. Kettle "Ulster (A Reply to Rudyard Kipling)"

Hate cast out with all his sworded peers - T.M. Kettle "When Others See Us as We See Ourselves!"

Went telling of expatriate tears - T.M. Kettle "When Others See Us as We See Ourselves!"

And in that darkness I could hide - T.M. Kettle "When Others See Us as We See Ourselves!"


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