Dora Sigerson Shorter
Years of life
1866 - 1918
Place of Birth
Ireland
Place of death
Not filled
Residence
Ireland
Publication languages
English
About the poet
Dora Sigerson (1866–1918) was an Irish poet, who after her marriage in 1895 wrote under the name Dora Sigerson Shorter. She was born in Dublin, Ireland, the daughter of George Sigerson, a surgeon and writer, and Hester (née Varian) also a writer. She was a major figure of the Irish Literary revival, publishing many collections of poetry from 1893. Her friends included Katharine Tynan, a noted Irish-born poet and author.
Her husband was Clement King Shorter, an English journalist and literary critic. They lived together in London, until her death.
and writer, and Hester (née Varian) also a writer. She was a major figure of the Irish Literary rev
Show full textPoems by Dora Sigerson Shorter
found 288 works
I am the song, that rests upon the cloud;
I am the sun
I am the dawn, the day, the hiding shroud,
When dusk is done.
I am the changing colours of the tree;
The flower uncurled...
I am the sun
I am the dawn, the day, the hiding shroud,
When dusk is done.
I am the changing colours of the tree;
The flower uncurled...
Dora Sigerson Shorter
40 lines
How long wilt thou love me, O my love?
'As long as life may be.'
Life is but a breath
Breathed us by Death,
That we may learn and be the makers of our Destiny.
How long wilt thou love me, O beloved...
'As long as life may be.'
Life is but a breath
Breathed us by Death,
That we may learn and be the makers of our Destiny.
How long wilt thou love me, O beloved...
Dora Sigerson Shorter
24 lines
I want to go to the heather hills,
To the heather hills and rocky shore.
I want to climb to Ben-Edar's heights,
And to smell the sea once more.
I want to talk by an Ulster hearth,
Where welcome ever a stranger finds...
To the heather hills and rocky shore.
I want to climb to Ben-Edar's heights,
And to smell the sea once more.
I want to talk by an Ulster hearth,
Where welcome ever a stranger finds...
Dora Sigerson Shorter
16 lines
The Virgin speaks Draw back the starry curtains of the night,
O Cherubim, and Seraphim!
Pull back the purple curtains of the night,
For I would look once more upon the world,
That ere my sorrows made some young delight
In bird and bee and each earth-flower uncurled...
O Cherubim, and Seraphim!
Pull back the purple curtains of the night,
For I would look once more upon the world,
That ere my sorrows made some young delight
In bird and bee and each earth-flower uncurled...
Dora Sigerson Shorter
50 lines
How restless are the dead whose silent feet will stray
In to our lone retreat or solitary way;
Within the dew-wet wood or sun-enchanted lane
We meet them face to face, we hear them speak again.
How powerful are the dead whose voices ever speak,
So softly by our side in accents faint and weak...
In to our lone retreat or solitary way;
Within the dew-wet wood or sun-enchanted lane
We meet them face to face, we hear them speak again.
How powerful are the dead whose voices ever speak,
So softly by our side in accents faint and weak...
Dora Sigerson Shorter
24 lines
Sitting alone in my room,
Alone in the gathering gloom,
Solitude in the rest of the tomb.
While the drip, drip, drip of the rain,
Like tears that are falling in vain
For a loss that is gone past regain...
Alone in the gathering gloom,
Solitude in the rest of the tomb.
While the drip, drip, drip of the rain,
Like tears that are falling in vain
For a loss that is gone past regain...
Dora Sigerson Shorter
32 lines
And so goodbye, my love, my dear, and so goodbye,
E'en thus from my sad heart go hence, depart;
I cast thee out, renounce, and hold no more;
I wreck the cup of joy thou heldest for drinking
To my lips, thinking we'd quaff—be as before;
Yet at my laughter if thou hearest sigh...
E'en thus from my sad heart go hence, depart;
I cast thee out, renounce, and hold no more;
I wreck the cup of joy thou heldest for drinking
To my lips, thinking we'd quaff—be as before;
Yet at my laughter if thou hearest sigh...
Dora Sigerson Shorter
62 lines
He heard it first upon the lips of love,
And loved it for love's sake;
A faithful word, that knows nor time nor change,
Nor lone heart-break.
It sung across his heart-strings like a breath
Of Heaven's faithfulness, that whispered 'Never...
And loved it for love's sake;
A faithful word, that knows nor time nor change,
Nor lone heart-break.
It sung across his heart-strings like a breath
Of Heaven's faithfulness, that whispered 'Never...
Dora Sigerson Shorter
16 lines
'Ach Gott! wem gehort dieses Haus?'—
Tyrolese house motto.
I built a house, four perfect walls and strong,
To hold the kindly roof, whose shelt'ring eve
Did tempt the darting swallows from their flight
To nest and stay all loth and late to leave...
Tyrolese house motto.
I built a house, four perfect walls and strong,
To hold the kindly roof, whose shelt'ring eve
Did tempt the darting swallows from their flight
To nest and stay all loth and late to leave...
Dora Sigerson Shorter
26 lines
And I had died before the spring had come,
When winter's kiss upon the fields was cold,
And no small seed had broken up the land,
Then had I died, whose earthly hours were told.
I should have liked to see the snowdrop rise,
And pressed my lips upon the primrose bowl...
When winter's kiss upon the fields was cold,
And no small seed had broken up the land,
Then had I died, whose earthly hours were told.
I should have liked to see the snowdrop rise,
And pressed my lips upon the primrose bowl...
Dora Sigerson Shorter
24 lines
Woe to the House of Breffni, and to Red O'Ruark woe!
Woe to us all in Erinn for the shame that laid us low!
And cursed be you, Dearvorgil, who severed north and south,
And ruin brought to Erinn with the smiling of your mouth.
It is the Prince of Breffni rides quick in the pale of day,
Deep in his eyes a shadow, a frown on his forehead lay...
Woe to us all in Erinn for the shame that laid us low!
And cursed be you, Dearvorgil, who severed north and south,
And ruin brought to Erinn with the smiling of your mouth.
It is the Prince of Breffni rides quick in the pale of day,
Deep in his eyes a shadow, a frown on his forehead lay...
Dora Sigerson Shorter
85 lines
I hear the thrush and blackbird sing,
And blackbird sing.
Their honied voices wake the sleeping spring,
The slothful spring,
And as each lovely note sighs forth and soars,
Green to the bough doth come and bloom restores...
And blackbird sing.
Their honied voices wake the sleeping spring,
The slothful spring,
And as each lovely note sighs forth and soars,
Green to the bough doth come and bloom restores...
Dora Sigerson Shorter
45 lines
Somehow I never liked you, John, your ways were crude
Your smile was pharisaical, your manners rude;
Although you prospered well in wordly things,
Ay, were on nodding terms with Czars and Kings,
I seem to see the counter and the store,
And all the shopman's manners learnt before...
Your smile was pharisaical, your manners rude;
Although you prospered well in wordly things,
Ay, were on nodding terms with Czars and Kings,
I seem to see the counter and the store,
And all the shopman's manners learnt before...
Dora Sigerson Shorter
115 lines
So for the luxury of the flesh, wrap it in fur of fox that it be warm,
In the bear's coat sheltering its nakedness from storm.
Give wine for its hot veins, fame for its throne, and laughter for its lips,
All ends in one eclipse,
Sunshine or snows.
We gain a grave, and afterwards—God knows...
In the bear's coat sheltering its nakedness from storm.
Give wine for its hot veins, fame for its throne, and laughter for its lips,
All ends in one eclipse,
Sunshine or snows.
We gain a grave, and afterwards—God knows...
Dora Sigerson Shorter
18 lines
It was the Black Earl Roderick
Who rode towards the south;
The frown was heavy on his brow,
The sneer upon his mouth.
Behind him rode a hundred men
All gay with plume and spear...
Who rode towards the south;
The frown was heavy on his brow,
The sneer upon his mouth.
Behind him rode a hundred men
All gay with plume and spear...
Dora Sigerson Shorter
324 lines
If by my tomb some day you careless pass,
A moment grieved by coming on my name,
Ah! kneel awhile upon the tender grass
In some short prayer acquitting me of blame.
If I reached not your pinnacle of right,
Or fell below your standard of desire...
A moment grieved by coming on my name,
Ah! kneel awhile upon the tender grass
In some short prayer acquitting me of blame.
If I reached not your pinnacle of right,
Or fell below your standard of desire...
Dora Sigerson Shorter
20 lines
I would have wept with the beast,
The bird, the blossoming flower,
The hundred years of the oak,
Or the insect born for an hour,
Saying with my soul's right
Ah, woe for your body's pain...
The bird, the blossoming flower,
The hundred years of the oak,
Or the insect born for an hour,
Saying with my soul's right
Ah, woe for your body's pain...
Dora Sigerson Shorter
32 lines
I want to talk to thee of many things
Or sit in silence when the robin sings
His littl' song, when comes the winter bleak,
I want to sit beside thee, cheek by cheek.
I want to hear thy voice my name repeat,
To fill my heart with echoes ever sweet...
Or sit in silence when the robin sings
His littl' song, when comes the winter bleak,
I want to sit beside thee, cheek by cheek.
I want to hear thy voice my name repeat,
To fill my heart with echoes ever sweet...
Dora Sigerson Shorter
20 lines
All the long day the robin on the spray
Piped his sweet song
To her who on her hidden nest
Oft turned beneath her patient breast
Her pretty eggs in tender quest
All the long day...
Piped his sweet song
To her who on her hidden nest
Oft turned beneath her patient breast
Her pretty eggs in tender quest
All the long day...
Dora Sigerson Shorter
24 lines
Up the steep stair they clatter to each room,
In whispered merriment they pierce the gloom
Of Time's sweet mercy, who with his grey sheet
Did seek in vain to stay their restless feet.
Their peeping eyes and prying fingers' thrust
Disturb Death's shroud and wanton in the dust...
In whispered merriment they pierce the gloom
Of Time's sweet mercy, who with his grey sheet
Did seek in vain to stay their restless feet.
Their peeping eyes and prying fingers' thrust
Disturb Death's shroud and wanton in the dust...
Dora Sigerson Shorter
58 lines
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