#Irish #NobelPrize #XIXCentury #XXCentury #1933 #TheWindingStairAndOtherPoems
Old fathers, great-grandfathers, Rise as kindred should. If ever lover’s loneliness Came where you stood, Pray that Heaven protect us
How can I, that girl standing the… My attention fix On Roman or on Russian Or on Spanish politics? Yet here’s a travelled man that kn…
We that have done and thought, That have thought and done, Must ramble, and thin out Like milk spilt on a stone.
That is no country for old men. T… In one another’s arms, birds in th… —Those dying generations—at their… The salmon—falls, the mackerel—cro… Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all…
MANY ingenious lovely things are… That seemed sheer miracle to the m… protected from the circle of the m… That pitches common things about.… Amid the ornamental bronze and sto…
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…
I rise in the dawn, and I kneel a… Till the seed of the fire flicker… And then I must scrub and bake an… Till stars are beginning to blink… And the young lie long and dream i…
There was a green branch hung with… When her own people ruled this tra… And from its murmuring greenness,… A Druid kindness, on all hearers… It charmed away the merchant from…
While I, that reed-throated whisp… Who comes at need, although not no… A clear articulation in the air, But inwardly, surmise companions Beyond the fling of the dull ass’s…
OTHERS because you did not keep That deep-sworn vow have been frie… Yet always when I look death in t… When I clamber to the heights of… Or when I grow excited with wine,
‘She will change,’ I cried. ‘Into a withered crone.’ The heart in my side, That so still had lain, In noble rage replied
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
Had I the heavens’ embroidered cl… Enwrought with golden and silver l… The blue and the dim and the dark… Of night and light and the half—li… I would spread the cloths under yo…
SADDLE and ride, I heard a man… Out of Ben Bulben and Knocknarea… i{What says the Clock in the Grea… All those tragic characters ride But turn from Rosses’ crawling ti…
O BUT we talked at large before The sixteen men were shot, But who can talk of give and take, What should be and what not While those dead men are loitering…
