#Irish #Women
Not yet hast Thou sounded Thy clangorous music, Whose strings are under the mounta… Not yet hast Thou spoken The blooded, implacable Word...
Where to-day would a dainty buyer Imbibe your scented juice, Pale ruin with a heart of fire; Drain your succulence with her lip… Grown sapless from much use…
The old men of the world have made… To warm their trembling hands. They poke the young men in. The young men burn like withes. If one run a little way,
When Art goes bounding, lean, Up hill-tops fired green To pluck a rose for life. Life like a broody hen Cluck-clucks him back again.
A late snow beats With cold white fists upon the ten… Hurriedly drawing blinds and shutt… Like tall old slatterns Pulling aprons about their heads.
I love you, malcontent Male wind— Shaking the pollen from a flower Or hurling the sea backward from t… Blow on and over my dreams...
Old plant of Asia - Mutilated vine Holding earth’s leaping sap In every stem and shoot That lopped off, sprouts again -
The earth is motionless And poised in space ... A great bird resting in its flight Between the alleys of the stars. It is the wind’s hour off ...
Out of fiery contacts ... Rushing auras of steel Touching and whirled apart ... Out of the charged phallases Of iron leaping
I remember The crackle of the palm trees Over the mooned white roofs of the… The shining town’¦ And the tender fumbling of the sur…
Your love was like moonlight turning harsh things to beauty, so that little wry souls reflecting each other obliquely as in cracked mirrors . . .
I would be a torch unto your hand, A lamp upon your forehead, Labor, In the wild darkness before the D… That I shall never see… We shall advance together, my Bel…
That was a great night we spied up… See-sawing home, Singing a hot sweet song to the su… Shuffling off behind the smoke-haz… Fog-horns sentimentalizing on the…
I see you, refulgent ones, Burning so steadily Like big white arc lights... There are so many of you. I like to watch you weaving—
Long vast shapes... cooled and flu… Lidless windows Glazed with a flashy luster From some little pert café chirpin… And down among iron guts