A Dublin Poem
A no-man’s land twixt Norse and Brit, chained to the granite quays.
A no-man’s land twixt Norse and Brit, chained to the granite quays.
Trinity College students in the early twentieth century were denied association with women, so their energies found other outlets.
A Dublin poem, of going and returning, from Gerard Smyth.
The supreme place given to the national question meant some Dublin politicians had to affect a deep concern for the poor they did not necessarily really feel.
A stroll along the banks of the Dodder recalls a murder committed in 1900, and its reverberations in two of Joyce’s works.
Like the famous literary character he created, Bram Stoker was a healthy feeder.
Four generations ago Dublin had a vibrant and numerous working class Protestant community. For some of their middle class co-religionists they were too vibrant.
Philip Larkin visited Dublin for a library conference in 1967. He wasn’t hugely impressed.
A German visitor to Dublin in 1783 was impressed by the city’s beautiful location, its bays and mountains, and the thriving trade of its port.
A variety of pedlars worked the streets of suburban Dublin more than a hundred years ago, fascinating, and sometimes terrifying, the local children.