Herbert Trench

Frederic Herbert Trench (12 November 1865 – 11 June 1923) was an Irish poet.

Quotes

• Come, let us make love deathless, thou and I,
  Seeing that our footing on the Earth is brief—
  Seeing that her multitudes sweep out to die
  Mocking at all that passes their belief.
  • "Come, let us make love deathless", in Deirdre Wed, and Other Poems (London: Methuen & Co., 1901), p. 69

• She comes not when Noon is on the roses—
     Too bright is Day.
  She comes not to the Soul till it reposes
     From work and play.
  But when Night is on the hills, and the great Voices
     Roll in from Sea,
  By starlight and by candlelight and dreamlight
     She comes to me.
  • "She Comes Not When Noon is on the Roses", in Deirdre Wed, and Other Poems, p. 85

• But she, like sighing forests,
     Stole on me—full of rest,
  Her hair was like the sea's wave,
     Whiteness was in her breast,—
  (So does one come, at night, upon a wall of roses.)
  • "The Night", st. 2, in Deirdre Wed, and Other Poems, p. 86

• O dreamy, gloomy, friendly Trees, ...
  Ye, vastest breathers of the air,
  Shook down with slow and mighty poise
  Your coolness on the human care,
  Your wonder on its toys,
  Your greenness on the heart's despair,
  Your darkness on its noise.
  • "O dreamy, gloomy, friendly Trees", in New Poems (London: Meuthuen & Co., 1907), p. 54