#IrishWriters
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 ....
Cherry, cherry, glowing on the hearth, bright red cherry... When you try to pick up cherry Celia’s shriek
The soldiers lie upon the snow, That no longer gyrates under the s… Night juggles in her fat black han… They will not babble any more secr… nights
When you tell mama you are going to do something grea… she looks at you as though you were a window she were trying to see through,
Light! Innumerable ions of light, Kindling, irradiating, All to their foci tending… Light that jingles like anklet cha…
I have a dream to fill the golden sheath of a remembered day.... (Air heavy and massed and blue
Skyscrapers... remote, unpartisan.… Turning neither to the right nor l… Your imperturbable fronts.... Austerely greeting the sun With one chilly finger of stone...…
Long vast shapes... cooled and flu… Lidless windows Glazed with a flashy luster From some little pert café chirpin… And down among iron guts
Dour river Jaded with monotony of lights Diving off mast heads.... Lights mad with creating in a rive… Heave up, river...
Come forth, you workers! Let the fires go cold’ Let the iron spill out, out of the… Let the iron run wild Like a red bramble on the floors’…
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—
You can see the sandhills from our… Butterflies live in the sandhills and lizards and centipedes.
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.
Tender and tremulous green of leav… Turned up by the wind, Twanging among the vines - Wind in the grass Blowing a clear path
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.
