#Irish #NobelPrize
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…
WHAT need you, being come to sen… But fumble in a greasy till And add the halfpence to the pence And prayer to shivering prayer, un… You have dried the marrow from the…
The jester walked in the garden: The garden had fallen still; He bade his soul rise upward And stand on her window—sill. It rose in a straight blue garment…
Some may have blamed you that you… The verses that could move them on… When, the ears being deafened, the… With lightning, you went from me,… Nothing to make a song about but k…
‘TIME to put off the world and g… And find my health again in the se… Beggar to beggar cried, being fren… ‘And make my soul before my pate i… ’And get a comfortable wife and ho…
A man came slowly from the setting… To Emer, raddling raiment in her… And said, “I am that swineherd wh… Go watch the road between the wood… But now I have no need to watch i…
Where dips the rocky highland Of Sleuth Wood in the lake, There lies a leafy island Where flapping herons wake The drowsy water rats;
WHEN have I last looked on The round green eyes and the long… Of the dark leopards of the moon? All the wild witches, those most n… For all their broom-sticks and the…
O’Driscoll drove with a song The wild duck and the drake From the tall and the tufted reeds Of the drear Hart Lake. And he saw how the reeds grew dark
We should be hidden from their eye… Being but holy shows And bodies broken like a thorn Whereon the bleak north blows, To think of buried Hector
What’s riches to him That has made a great peacock With the pride of his eye? The wind-beaten, stone-grey, And desolate Three Rock
Half close your eyelids, loosen yo… And dream about the great and thei… They have spoken against you every… But weigh this song with the great… I made it out of a mouthful of air…
A strange thing surely that my hea… Upon the Norman upland or in that… Should find no burden but itself a… It could not bear that burden and… The south wind brought it longing,…
O cloud-pale eyelids, dream-dimmed… The poets labouring all their days To build a perfect beauty in rhyme Are overthrown by a woman’s gaze And by the unlabouring brood of th…
SANG Solomon to Sheba, And kissed her dusky face, ‘All day long from mid-day We have talked in the one place, All day long from shadowless noon