#Irish #Women
Small towns Crawling out of their green shirts… Tubercular towns Coughing a little in the dawn... And the church...
He walked under the shadow of the… Where men are fed into the fires And walled apart… Unarmed and alone, He summoned his mates from the pit…
Your love was like moonlight turning harsh things to beauty, so that little wry souls reflecting each other obliquely as in cracked mirrors . . .
It is dark’¦ so dark, I remember… It is still’¦ so still, I hear t… Ten times we had watched the moon Rise like a thin white virgin out… And round into a full maternity’¦
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.
Nasal intonations of light and clicking tongues... publicity of windows stoning me with pent-up cries... smells of abattoirs...
—Albert Parsons went to his death singing Annie Laurie; didn’t another have a rose in his coat–
Your love was like moonlight turning harsh things to beauty, so that little wry souls reflecting each other obliquely as in cracked mirrors’¦ beheld in your luminous spirit their own r...
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…
The foreman's head slowly circling... White rims under yellow disks of eyes.... Gold hairs
Dance, little children... it is ho… Have you hung paper flowers about… Dance soft . . . but very gaily...… Spread your little pinafores And courtesy as the snow does . .…
Drab discoloration Of faces, façades, pawn-shops, Second-hand clothing, Smoky and fly-blown glass of lunch… Odors of rancid life’¦
I have known only my own shallows… Safe, plumbed places, Where I was wont to preen myself. But for the abyss I wanted a plank beneath
What of the silence of the keys And silvery hands? The iron sings… Though bows lie broken on the stri… The fly-wheels turn eternally’¦ Bring fuel - drive the fires high’…
There is music in the strong Deep-throated bush, Whisperings of song Heard in the leaves’ hush - Ballads of the trees