A Song of the Open Road, and Other Verses

By Louis J. McQuilland

This collection of poetry was written by the Irish poet Louis J. McQuilland, whose poems were previously published in magazines such as the Vanity Fair. His works revolve around topics such as medieval royals, bloody revolutions, and the Irish identity.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Good Press
• Release date: Nov 5, 2021
• ISBN: 4066338068842

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Louis J. McQuilland

A Song of the Open Road, and Other Verses

Published by Good Press, 2022

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EAN 4066338068842

Table of Contents

INTRODUCTION

A SONG OF THE OPEN ROAD

THE COUNTRY OF THE YOUNG To H. A. MacC.

THE SONG OF FORGOTTEN HEROES

THE KING’S BRIDE

A GEORGIAN SNUFF-BOX

BALLADE OF FIGHT To G. K. C.

TO THE NEW HELEN ON HER BIRTHDAY

FOR ANY GOOD CAUSE AT ALL. The Ballad of Sir Kevin O’Keane To C. C.

THE HOUSE OF THE STRANGE WOMAN

FLAMES

IN A LIBRARY

CHÂTEAU D’ESPOIR

THE SONG OF THE FLAG

LES PAPILLONS

BALLADE OF ANGRY GALLERY FIRST-NIGHTERS

THE DIGGER

WHEN MY LOST LADY COMES AGAIN

WHITE ROSES

GLADYS IN THE WOODLAND

A SOCIAL FAVOURITE

THE JOYOUS COMRADE To J. K. P.

TRUCE

ROMANCE AT REST

VOICES

SOME IMMORTALS AND A MORAL

THE LOST LAND

BALLADE OF ONE-AND-TWENTY

WHEN LONDON BURNS

WITH BERTHA UP THE RIVER

THE ISLAND OF A DREAM To T., M. P.

BALLADE OF DEAD FAVOURITES

THE HORSEMAN

WHEN I SAIL TO THE FORTUNATE ISLANDS

LITTLE SONGS OF LONDON STREETS

FLEET STREET

OXFORD STREET

QUEENS IN RED AND WHITE

MY LADY OF THE VIOLETS

OLD FRIENDS, OLD BOOKS, OLD WINES

THE POISONERS

PRINCESS FAR-AWAY

THE HUNS AT VERDUN

RESURGAM Ireland , 1916

IMMORTAL

INTRODUCTION

Table of Contents

Though

I have now known my friend Louis McQuilland for well over a dozen years I am only just beginning to understand him. It may be that he is only just beginning to understand himself. But I am not so sure; for he is an Irishman, and the Irish have, as compared with us, a remarkable capacity both for knowing themselves and for keeping to themselves what they know.

For what it is worth, my own interpretation of the earlier and the later McQuilland—they afford in some ways a startling contrast—is something like this. I conceive a young man, an Ulsterman of the Catholic Nationalist minority, the fiercest section of the Fighting Race, coming to London and finding himself among an alien people whose eyes were so different from his own, and, with the quick observation and adaptability of his