#Irish #NobelPrize #IrishWriters
Things out of perfection sail, And all their swelling canvas wear… Nor shall the self-begotten fail Though fantastic men suppose Building-yard and stormy shore,
I DREAMED that one had died in… Near no accustomed hand, And they had nailed the boards abo… The peasants of that land, Wondering to lay her in that solit…
“Put off that mask of burning gold With emerald eyes.” “O no, my dear, you make so bold To find if hearts be wild and wise… And yet not cold.”
‘THOUGH logic-choppers rule the… And every man and maid and boy Has marked a distant object down, An aimless joy is a pure joy,’ Or so did Tom O’Roughley say
PICTURE and book remain, An acre of green grass For air and exercise, Now strength of body goes; Midnight, an old house
Once more the storm is howling, an… Under this cradle—hood and coverli… My child sleeps on. There is no… But Gregory’s wood and one bare h… Whereby the haystack—and roof—leve…
Shepherd. That cry’s from the fir… I wished before it ceased. Goatherd. Nor bird n… Could make me wish for anything th… Being old, but that the old alone…
The light of evening, Lissadell, Great windows open to the south, Two girls in silk kimonos, both Beautiful, one a gazelle. But a raving autumn shears
The heron-billed pale cattle-birds That feed on some foul parasite Of the Moroccan flocks and herds Cross the narrow Straits to light In the rich midnight of the garden…
A MAN I praise that once in Tar… Said to the woman on his knees, ‘… My hundredth year is at an end.… That something is about to happen,… That the adventure of old age begi…
If you, that have grown old, were… Neither catalpa tree nor scented l… Should hear my living feet, nor wo… Where we wrought that shall break… Let the new faces play what tricks…
Ah, that Time could touch a form That could show what Homer’s age Bred to be a hero’s wage. ‘Were not all her life but storm, Would not painters paint a form
I WHISPERED, ‘I am too young,… And then, 'I am old enough’; Wherefore I threw a penny To find out if I might love. ‘Go and love, go and love, young m…
I had this thought awhile ago, ‘My darling cannot understand What I have done, or what would d… In this blind bitter land.’ And I grew weary of the sun
Old fathers, great-grandfathers, Rise as kindred should. If ever lover’s loneliness Came where you stood, Pray that Heaven protect us