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#katharine tynan
violettesiren · 5 months
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As I went through the ancient town, Long lost and found once more, Oh, who is this in a green gown I knew so well of yore?
Veils of enchantment hid the place, Hung every street and square: I felt the sea-wind in my face And the ruffling in my hair.
O town I loved so well and lost, And find again with tears, Your streets hold many a darling ghost And all the vanished years!
My heart went singing a low song, Glad to be home again. But who is this comes blithe and young, Not feared of life but fain?
Oh, who is this comes cold as a stone To my quick cry and call? Of all the faces loved and flown I knew her best of all.
"Stay, you are …" Is she deaf and blind, Or hath she quite forgot? What chill is in the sun, the wind, Because she knows me not?
As I went down—my eyes were wet— Eager and stepping fast That was my own sweet youth I met, Who knew me not and passed.
Coming Back by Katharine Tynan
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sadbhkellett · 2 years
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A blogpost I wrote last year on such an underrated Irish writer!
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kathywaller1 · 1 year
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All in the April Evening
On Good Friday several years ago, I posted “All in the April Evening,” words and music by Sir Hugh Roberton, based on a poem by Katharine Tynan. Good Friday is past, but music and poetry shouldn’t be limited, so I post it again. Roberton modified the poet’s words slightly; his version is the one I use. A link to the poem is here. Links to performances and biographies of the composers…
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ukdamo · 1 year
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Sheep and Lambs
Katharine Tynan Hinkson
All in the April morning, April airs were abroad; The sheep with their little lambs Pass’d me by on the road.
The sheep with their little lambs Pass’d me by on the road; All in an April evening I thought on the Lamb of God.
The lambs were weary, and crying With a weak human cry, I thought on the Lamb of God Going meekly to die.
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Katharine Tynan
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Poet and novelist Katharine Tynan was born in 1859 in Dublin, Ireland. Tynan wrote over 100 novels, more than a dozen poetry collections, 12 books of short stories, and five volumes of autobiography. Her work won the admiration of WB Yeats, who considered her poems an important part of the Irish literary renaissance. Tynan also had a successful journalistic career, writing for newspapers and magazines in Ireland, England, and the US.
Katharine Tynan died in 1931 at the age of 72.
Image: A Round table of the representative Irish and English Catholic novelists, at which is served a feast of excellent stories; with portraits, biographical sketches, and bibliography
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notwiselybuttoowell · 2 months
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Mathilde Blind by Lucy Madox Brown, 1872
Mathilde Blind (born Mathilda Cohen; 21 March 1841 – 26 November 1896), was a German-born English poet, fiction writer, biographer, essayist and critic. In the early 1870s she emerged as a pioneering female aesthete in a mostly male community of artists and writers. By the late 1880s she had become prominent among New Woman writers such as Vernon Lee (Violet Paget), Amy Levy, Mona Caird, Olive Schreiner, Rosamund Marriott Watson, and Katharine Tynan. She was praised by Algernon Charles Swinburne, William Michael Rossetti, Amy Levy, Edith Nesbit, Arthur Symons and Arnold Bennett. Her much-discussed poem The Ascent of Man presents a distinctly feminist response to the Darwinian theory of evolution.
Blind's early political affiliations were shaped by the foreign refugees who frequented her stepfather's house, including Giuseppe Mazzini, for whom she entertained a passionate admiration and about whom she would publish reminiscences in the Fortnightly Review in 1891. Other revolutionaries who frequent her mother and stepfather's house in St. John's Wood included Karl Marx and Louis Blanc. Her early commitment to women's suffrage was influenced by her mother's friend Caroline Ashurst Stansfeld, who was active in the British feminist movement from its origins in the 1840s. These radical affiliations are manifested in Blind's politically charged poetry, and in her own unbending commitment to reform. As Richard Garnett observed, in the society of political refugees and radicals Blind was raised in, "admiration must necessarily be reserved for audacity in enterprise, fortitude in adversity... anything breathing unconquerable defiance of the powers that were."
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thebeautifulbook · 2 years
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IRISH LOVE SONGS edited by Katharine Tynan. (London: Unwin, 1892) Binding by Strikeman and Company. Limited to 30 copies in case.
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anastpaul · 1 year
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Our Morning Offering – 9 January – Adveniat Regnum Tuum! Thy Kingdom Come!
Our Morning Offering – 9 January – Adveniat Regnum Tuum! Thy Kingdom Come!
Our Morning Offering – 9 January – The Holy Family – Within the Octave of Epiphany Adveniat Regnum Tuum!Thy Kingdom Come!By Katharine Tynan (1861-1931) Thy Kingdom come ! Yea, bid it come!But when Thy Kingdom first beganOn earth, Thy Kingdom was a home,A Child, a woman and a man. The Child was in the midst thereof,O, Blessed Jesus, holiest One!The Centre and the Fount of LoveMary and Joseph’s…
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famousdonutyouth · 1 year
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thefugitivesaint · 4 years
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John Hassall (1868-1948), ''The Sketch'', Dec. 10, 1902 Source
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awesomehoggirl · 3 years
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C!TUBBO // LAMB TO THE SLAUGHTER
lamb, yoshimasa tsuchiya / leg of lamb, queens of the stone age / american pie, don mclean / sheep, yoshimasa tsuchiya / time will crawl, david bowie / breathing, kate bush / sheep, yoshimasa tsuchiya / i will spite survive, deerhoof / small poppies, courtney barnett / sheep and lambs, katharine tynan
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violettesiren · 9 months
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The winding road lies white and bare, Heavy in dust that takes the glare; The thirsty hedgerows and parched grass Dream of a time when no road was.
Beyond, the fields are full in view, Heavy in herbage and in dew; The great-eyed kine browse thankfully; Come, take the footpath way with me!
This stile, where country lovers tryst, Where many a man and maid have kissed, Invites us sweetly, and the wood Beckons us to her solitude.
Leave men and lumbering wains behind, And dusty roads, all blank and blind; Come tread on velvet and on silk, Damasked with daisies, white as milk.
Those dryads of the wood, that some Call the wild hyacinths, now are come, And hold their revels in a night Of emerald flecked with candle-light.
The fountains of the meadows play, This is the wild bee's holiday; When summer-snows have sweetly dressed The pasture like a wedding-guest,
By fields of beans that shall eclipse The honey on the rose's lips, With woodruff and the new hay's breath, And wild thyme sweetest in her death,
Skirting the rich man's lawn and hall, The footpath way is free to all; For us his pinks and roses blow: Fling him thanksgiving ere we go!
By orchards yet in rosy veils, By hidden nests of nightingales, Through lonesome valleys where all day The rabbit people scurry and play,
The footpath sets her tender lure. This is the country for the poor; The high-road seeks the crowded sea; Come, take the footpath way with me!
The Footpath Way by Katharine Tynan
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sadbhkellett · 10 months
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Loved having the opportunity to speak about Dante Gabriel Rossetti's influence on Katharine Tynan's work at the Rossettis: In Relation conference held at the Tate Britain last week! Go check out the fantastic exhibition 'The Rossettis: Radical Romantics' which runs until the 24th of September 2023.
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kathywaller1 · 3 years
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All in the April Evening
All in the April Evening
Several years ago on Good Friday, I posted “All in the April Evening,” words and music by Sir Hugh Roberton, based on a poem by Katharine Tynan. Good Friday is past, but music has no limits, so here it is again. Roberton modified the words slightly; his version is the one I use. A link to the poem is here. Links to performances and biographies of the composers follow. Years ago my voice…
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tiarnanabhfainni · 2 years
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Never shall my swans build nests in some green river, Never fly to Southward in the autumn gray, Rear no tender children, love no mates for ever; Robbed alike of bird's joys and of man's are they.
The Children of Lear - Katharine Tynan
extremely self-obsessed but i did reread my own fic and was thrown in the deep end of generational trauma again
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judyconda · 2 years
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Lenten Communion By Katharine Tynan Rest in a friend’s house, Dear, I pray: The way is long to Good Friday, And very chill and grey the way. No crocus with its shining cup, Nor the gold daffodil is up, – Nothing is here save the snowdrop. Sit down with me and taste good cheer: Too soon, too soon, Thy Passion’s here; The wind is keen and the skies drear. Sit by my fire and break my bread. Yea, from Thy dish may I be fed, And under Thy feet my hair spread! Lord, in the quiet, chill and sweet, Let me pour water for Thy feet, While the crowd goes by in the Street. Why wouldst Thou dream of spear or sword, Or of the ingrate rabble, Lord? There is no sound save the song of a bird. Let us sit down and talk at ease About Thy Father’s business. (What shouts were those borne on the breeze?) Nay, Lord, it cannot be for Thee They raise the tallest cross of the three On yon dark Mount of Calvary! So soon, so soon, the hour’s flown! The glory’s dying: Thou art gone Out on Thy lonely way, alone. Lord our God, you feed us in this life with bread from heaven, the pledge and foreshadowing of future glory. Grant that the working of this sacrament within us may bear fruit in our daily lives; through Jesus Christ our Lord. : #fairytaletuesday #fairytale #poetry #poet #poetic #poets #poetsofinstagram #poetryofinstagram #holyweekseason #HolyWeek #holytuesday #lentenseason #semanasanta #lenten #lent #Spiritique #mindfulness #Spiritual #Spirituality #mystical #mystique #MysticArt #mystic #mysticisim #renaissance #renaissanceart #staindglass #stainedglass #churchart #catholique https://www.instagram.com/p/CcPf7hapnYB/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
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