Frances Wynne (1863 – August 1893) was born in Louth and educated in Dublin. She knew Katharine Tynan who helped her get her poems published in periodicals. She married her second cousin in 1891 and moved to London where he served as a curate in the East End. She was interviewed by The Lady Of The House in June 1893 and died in childbirth in August of that year. Her one collection, Whisper!, was printed in 1891 and reissued after her death with an introduction by Tynan.
The long day was bright,
It slowly passed from the purple slopes of the hill;
And then the night
Came floating quietly down, and the world grew still.
Now I lay awake,
The south wind stirs the white curtains to and fro.
In fields that stretch by the stream-side, misty and low.
At the meadow’s edge
I know the faint pink clover is heavy with dew.
Under the hedge
The speedwell closes its sweet eyes, dreamily blue.
With pursed rosy lips
The baby buds are asleep on the apple tree.
The river slips
Beneath the scarcely swayed willows, on to the sea.
The dark grows, and grows,
But I’m too happy to sleep, and the reason why
No creature knows,
Save certain little brown birds, and my love, and I.