Books
- Hyperthuleana (1916)
- Blight: The Tragedy of Dublin (1917)
- Secret Springs of Dublin Song (1918)
- The Ship and Other Poems (1918)
- A Serious Thing (1919)
- The Enchanted Trousers (1919)
- An Offering of Swans (1923)
- An Offering of Swans and Other Poems (1924)
- Wild Apples (three versions: 1928, 1929, 1930)
- Selected Poems (1933)
- As I Was Going Down Sackville Street (1937)
- Others to Adorn (1938)
- I Follow St. Patrick (1938)
- Elbow Room (two versions: 1939, 1942)
- Tumbling in the Hay (1939)
- Going Native (1940)
- Mad Grandeur (1941)
- Perennial (two versions: 1944, 1946)
- Mr. Petunia (1946)
- Mourning Became Mrs. Spendlove (1948)
- Rolling Down the Lea (1949)
- Intimations (1950)
- Collected Poems (1951)
- Unselected Poems (1954)
- It Isn't This Time of Year At All!: An Unpremeditated Autobiography (1954)
- Start From Somewhere Else (1955)
- A Weekend in the Middle of the Week (1958)
- The Poems & Plays of Oliver St. John Gogarty (containing rare and unpublished material, 2001)
Read more about this topic: Oliver St. John Gogarty
Famous quotes containing the word books:
“The art of writing books is not yet invented. But it is at the point of being invented. Fragments of this nature are literary seeds. There may be many an infertile grain among them: nevertheless, if only some come up!”
—Novalis [Friedrich Von Hardenberg] (1772–1801)
“There is no luck in literary reputation. They who make up the final verdict upon every book are not the partial and noisy readers of the hour when it appears; but a court as of angels, a public not to be bribed, not to be entreated, and not to be overawed, decides upon every man’s title to fame. Only those books come down which deserve to last.”
—Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803–1882)
“There is a sort of homely truth and naturalness in some books which is very rare to find, and yet looks cheap enough. There may be nothing lofty in the sentiment, or fine in the expression, but it is careless country talk. Homeliness is almost as great a merit in a book as in a house, if the reader would abide there. It is next to beauty, and a very high art. Some have this merit only.”
—Henry David Thoreau (1817–1862)