#Irish #NobelPrize #XIXCentury #XXCentury
A CURSING rogue with a merry f… A bundle of rags upon a crutch, Stumbled upon that windy place Called Cruachan, and it was as mu… As the one sturdy leg could do
He. Never until this night have I… The elaborate starlight throws a r… On the dark stream, Till all the eddies gleam; And thereupon there comes that scr…
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…
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…
BECAUSE I am mad about women I am mad about the hills,’ Said that wild old wicked man Who travels where God wills. ‘Not to die on the straw at home.
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…
A little Indian temple in the Gol… that the forest. Anashuya, the you… temple. Anashuya. Send peace on all the l… O, may tranquillity walk by his el…
‘Lay me in a cushioned chair; Carry me, ye four, With cushions here and cushions th… To see the world once more. ’To stable and to kennel go;
I CALL on those that call me son… Grandson, or great-grandson, On uncles, aunts, great-uncles or… To judge what I have done. Have I, that put it into words,
LOCKE sank into a swoon; The Garden died; God took the spinning-jenny Out of his side. Where got I that truth?
All things uncomely and broken, al… The cry of a child by the roadway,… The heavy steps of the ploughman,… Are wronging your image that bloss… The wrong of unshapely things is a…
‘WHAT have I earned for all that… ‘For all that I have done at my o… The daily spite of this unmannerly… Where who has served the most is m… The reputation of his lifetime los…
O curlew, cry no more in the air, Or only to the water in the West; Because your crying brings to my m… passion-dimmed eyes and long heavy… That was shaken out over my breast…
From pleasure of the bed, Dull as a worm, His rod and its butting head Limp as a worm, His spirit that has fled
Under the Great Comedian’s tomb t… A bundle of tempestuous cloud is b… About the sky; where that is clear… Brightness remains; a brighter sta… What shudders run through all that…
