#IrishWriters #NobelPrize #1933 #TheWindingStairAndOtherPoems
ONE had a lovely face, And two or three had charm, But charm and face were in vain Because the mountain grass Cannot but keep the form
You say, as I have often given to… In praise of what another’s said o… ’Twere politic to do the like by t… But was there ever dog that praise…
When my arms wrap you round I pre… My heart upon the loveliness That has long faded from the world… The jewelled crowns that kings hav… In shadowy pools, when armies fled…
Bring me to the blasted oak That I, midnight upon the stroke, (All find safety in the tomb.) May call down curses on his head Because of my dear Jack that’s de…
Pale brows, still hands and dim ha… I had a beautiful friend And dreamed that the old despair Would end in love in the end: She looked in my heart one day
I rage at my own image in the glas… That’s so unlike myself that when… It is as though you praised anothe… Mocked me with praise of my mere o… And when I wake towards morn I dr…
I wander by the edge Of this desolate lake Where wind cries in the sedge: Until the axle break That keeps the stars in their roun…
Come praise Colonus’ horses, and… The wine-dark of the wood’s intric… The nightingale that deafens dayli… If daylight ever visit where, Unvisited by tempest or by sun,
BECAUSE there is safety in deri… I talked about an apparition, I took no trouble to convince, Or seem plausible to a man of sens… Distrustful of thar popular eye
Crazed through much child-bearing The moon is staggering in the sky; Moon-struck by the despairing Glances of her wandering eye We grope, and grope in vain,
SWEETHEART, do not love too l… I loved long and long, And grew to be out of fashion Like an old song. All through the years of our youth
A little Indian temple in the Gol… that the forest. Anashuya, the you… temple. Anashuya. Send peace on all the l… O, may tranquillity walk by his el…
Once, when midnight smote the air, Eunuchs ran through Hell and met On every crowded street to stare Upon great Juan riding by: Even like these to rail and sweat
We, who seven years ago Talked of honour and of truth, Shriek with pleasure if we show The weasel’s twist, the weasel’s t…
Wine comes in at the mouth And love comes in at the eye; That’s all we shall know for truth Before we grow old and die. I lift the glass to my mouth,