#IrishWriters #NobelPrize #1899 #TheWindAmongTheReeds
Out-Worn heart, in a time out-wor… Come clear of the nets of wrong an… Laugh, heart, again in the grey tw… Sigh, heart, again in the dew of t… Your mother Eire is aways young,
ALTHOUGH I shelter from the ra… Under a broken tree My chair was nearest to the fire In every company That talked of love or politics,
Dear Craoibhin Aoibhin, look into… When we are high and airy hundreds… That if we hold that flight they’l… While those same hundreds mock ano… Because we have made our art of co…
BECAUSE we love bare hills and… And were the last to choose the se… Its boredom of the desk or of the… So many years companioned by a hou… Our voices carry; and though slumb…
O THOUGHT, fly to her when the… Awakens an old memory, and say, ‘Your strength, that is so lofty a… It might call up a new age, callin… The queens that were imagined long…
‘O WORDS are lightly spoken,’ Said Pearse to Connolly, ‘Maybe a breath of politic words Has withered our Rose Tree; Or maybe but a wind that blows
It is now more than ten years since I met, for the last time, Michael Robartes, and for the first time and the last time his friends and fellow students; and witnessed his and their tra...
Scene: A house made of logs. There are two windows at the back and a door which cuts off one of the corners of the room. Through the door one can see low rocks which make the ground out...
Hunchback. STAND up and lift yo… A man that finds great bitterness In thinking of his lost renown. A Roman Caesar is held down Under this hump.
The unpurged images of day recede; The Emperor’s drunken soldiery ar… Night resonance recedes, night-wal… After great cathedral gong; A starlit or a moonlit dome disdai…
I have met them at close of day Coming with vivid faces From counter or desk among grey Eighteenth-century houses. I have passed with a nod of the he…
Red Rose, proud Rose, sad Rose o… Come near me, while I sing the an… Cuchulain battling with the bitter… The Druid, grey, wood-nurtured, q… Who cast round Fergus dreams, and…
Shy one, shy one, Shy one of my heart, She moves in the firelight Pensively apart. She carries in the dishes,
NOW that we’re almost settled in… I’ll name the friends that cannot… Beside a fire of turf in the ancie… And having talked to some late hou… Climb up the narrow winding stair…
GOD guard me from those thoughts… In the mind alone; He that sings a lasting song Thinks in a marrow-bone; From all that makes a wise old man
