#Irish #NobelPrize #XIXCentury #XXCentury #1910 #RhymedStanza #TheGreenHelmetAndOtherPoems
SING of the O’Rahilly, Do not deny his right; Sing a 'the’ before his name; Allow that he, despite All those learned historians,
Nor dread nor hope attend A dying animal; A man awaits his end Dreading and hoping all; Many times he died,
#1933 #TheWindingStairAndOtherPoems
THERE is a queen in China, or maybe i… And birthdays and holidays such praises… Of her unblemished lineaments, a whitene… That she might be that sprightly girl wh… And there’s a score of duchesses, surpas…
A sudden blow: the great wings beating s… Above the staggering girl, her thighs ca… By the dark webs, her nape caught in his… He holds her helpless breast upon his br… How can those terrified vague fingers pu…
#1928 #Sonnet #TheTower
Hic. ON the grey sand beside the shallo… Under your old wind-beaten tower, where… A lamp burns on beside the open book That Michael Robartes left, you walk in… And though you have passed the best of l…
I MADE my song a coat Covered with embroideries Out of old mythologies From heel to throat; But the fools caught it,
Cumhal called out, bending his head, Till Dathi came and stood, With a blink in his eyes, at the cave-mo… Between the wind and the wood. And Cumhal said, bending his knees,
#1899 #TheWindAmongTheReeds
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 round,
BECAUSE there is safety in derision I talked about an apparition, I took no trouble to convince, Or seem plausible to a man of sense. Distrustful of thar popular eye
What lively lad most pleasured me Of all that with me lay? I answer that I gave my soul And loved in misery, But had great pleasure with a lad
We sat under an old thorn-tree And talked away the night, Told all that had been said or done Since first we saw the light, And when we talked of growing up
#1928 #TheTower
‘ALTHOUGH I’d lie lapped up in linen A deal I’d sweat and little earn If I should live as live the neighbours… Cried the beggar, Billy Byrne; ‘Stretch bones till the daylight come
SHE is foremost of those that I would… I have gone about the house, gone up and… As a man does who has published a new bo… Or a young girl dressed out in her new g… And though I have turned the talk by ho…
He. Opinion is not worth a rush; In this altar-piece the knight, Who grips his long spear so to push That dragon through the fading light, Loved the lady; and it’s plain
Overcome—O bitter sweetness, Inhabitant of the soft cheek of a girl— The rich man and his affairs, The fat flocks and the fields’ fatness, Mariners, rough harvesters;