#Irish #NobelPrize #XIXCentury #XXCentury
Bolt and bar the shutter, For the foul winds blow: Our minds are at their best this n… And I seem to know That everything outside us is
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…
My Soul. I summon to the winding… Set all your mind upon the steep a… Upon the broken, crumbling battlem… Upon the breathless starlit air, Upon the star that marks the hidde…
POUR wine and dance if manhood s… Bring roses if the rose be yet in… The cataract smokes upon the mount… Our Father Rosicross is in his to… Pull down the blinds, bring fiddle…
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…
‘CALL down the hawk from the air… Let him be hooded or caged Till the yellow eye has grown mild… For larder and spit are bare, The old cook enraged,
I have drunk ale from the Country… And weep because I know all thing… I have been a hazel-tree, and they… The Pilot Star and the Crooked P… Among my leaves in times out of mi…
YOU think it horrible that lust a… Should dance attention upon my old… They were not such a plague when… What else have I to spur me into…
Kusta Ben Luka is my name, I wri… To Abd Al-Rabban; fellow-royster… Now the good Caliph’s learned Tre… And for no ear but his. Carry this letter
My Paistin Finn is my sole desire… And I am shrunken to skin and bon… For all my heart has had for its h… Is what I can whistle alone and a… Oro, oro.!
ALTHOUGH I shelter from the ra… Under a broken tree My chair was nearest to the fire In every company That talked of love or politics,
WHAT’S riches to him That has made a great peacock With the pride of his eye? The wind-beaten, stone-grey, And desolate Three Rock
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…
THAT civilisation may not sink, Its great battle lost, Quiet the dog, tether the pony To a distant post; Our master Caesar is in the tent
The lot of love is chosen. I lea… Struggling for an image on the tra… Of the whirling Zodiac. Scarce did he my body touch, Scarce sank he from the west