#Irish #NobelPrize #XIXCentury #XXCentury #1910 #RhymedStanza #TheGreenHelmetAndOtherPoems
Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths, Enwrought with golden and silver light, The blue and the dim and the dark cloths Of night and light and the half-light, I would spread the cloths under your fee…
The Powers whose name and shape no livi… Have pulled the Immortal Rose; And though the Seven Lights bowed in th… The Polar Dragon slept, His heavy rings uncoiled from glimmering…
#1899 #TheWindAmongTheReeds
‘What do you make so fair and bright?’ ‘I make the cloak of Sorrow: O lovely to see in all men’s sight Shall be the cloak of Sorrow, In all men’s sight.’
#1889 #TheWanderingsOfOisinAndOtherPoems
BIRD sighs for the air, Thought for I know not where, For the womb the seed sighs. Now sinks the same rest On mind, on nest,
I CALL on those that call me son, Grandson, or great-grandson, On uncles, aunts, great-uncles or great-… To judge what I have done. Have I, that put it into words,
NOW that we’re almost settled in our ho… I’ll name the friends that cannot sup wi… Beside a fire of turf in the ancient tow… And having talked to some late hour Climb up the narrow winding stair to bed…
Speech after long silence; it is right, All other lovers being estranged or dead… Unfriendly lamplight hid under its shade… The curtains drawn upon unfriendly night… That we descant and yet again descant
Swift has sailed into his rest; Savage indignation there Cannot lacerate his breast. Imitate him if you dare, World-besotted traveller; he
#1933 #TheWindingStairAndOtherPoems
I lived among great houses, Riches drove out rank, Base drove out the better blood, And mind and body shrank. No Oscar ruled the table,
‘O cruel Death, give three things back,… Sang a bone upon the shore; ‘A child found all a child can lack, Whether of pleasure or of rest, Upon the abundance of my breast’:
HIS DREAM I SWAYED upon the gaudy stem The butt-end of a steering-oar, And saw wherever I could turn A crowd upon a shore.
ON the grey rock of Cashel the mind’s e… Has called up the cold spirits that are… When the old moon is vanished from the s… And the new still hides her horn. Under blank eyes and fingers never still
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...
#IrIshWriters
I hear the Shadowy Horses, their long m… Their hoofs heavy with tumult, their eye… The North unfolds above them clinging,… The East her hidden joy before the morn… The West weeps in pale dew and sighs pa…
I sing what was lost and dread what was… I walk in a battle fought over again, My king a lost king, and lost soldiers m… Feet to the Rising and Setting may run, They always beat on the same small stone…