#IrishWriters
THE WHILE my mad brain whirled… She only looked with eyes elate Immortal love at me. I found How deep the glance of love can wo… How cruel pity is to hate.
OUR true hearts are forever lonel… A wistfulness is in our thought: Our lights are like the dawns whic… Seem bright to us and yet are not. Something you see in me I wis not…
NOW the rooftree of the midnight… Buds in citron, green, and blue: From afar its mystic odours sheddi… Child, on you. Now the buried stars beneath the m…
ON the twilight-burnished hills I… Where below the grey-lipped sands… Drink, and fade and disappear: int… A seer in my heart abides. Once the diamond dancing day-waves…
THE EAST was crowned with snow-… And hung with veils of pearly flee… They died away into the gloom, Vistas of peace—and deeper peace. And earth and air and wave and fir…
LIGHTEST of dancers, with no t… Thy glimmering feet beat on my hea… Gayest of singers, with no care Waking to beauty the still air, More than the labours of our art,
WHAT miracle was it that made th… Seem holy earth, a leaping-place f… I know I strode along grey street… Seeing nowhere a glimmer of the G… My vision baffled amid many dreams…
HE bent above: so still her breat… What air she breathed he could not… Whether in worlds of life or death… So softly ebbed away, away, The life that had been light to hi…
AS flow the rivers to the sea Adown from rocky hill or plain, A thousand ages toiled for thee And gave thee harvest of their gai… And weary myriads of yore
I WOKE to find my pillow wet With the tears for deeds deep hid… I knew no sorrow here, but yet The tears fell softly through the… Your eyes, your other eyes of drea…
THOSE delicate wanderers, The wind, the star, the cloud, Ever before mine eyes, As to an altar bowed, Light and dew-laden airs
I DID not deem it half so sweet To feel thy gentle hand, As in a dream thy soul to greet Across wide leagues of land. Untouched more near to draw to you
THE SEA was hoary, hoary, Beating on rock and cave: The winds were white and weeping With foam dust of the wave. They thundered louder, louder,
WHAT of all the will to do? It has vanished long ago, For a dream-shaft pierced it throu… From the Unknown Archer’s bow. What of all the soul to think?
A FRIENDLY mountain I know; As I lie on the green slope there It sets my heart in a glow And closes the door on care. A thought I try to frame—…