#Irish #NobelPrize #XIXCentury #XXCentury #1933 #TheWindingStairAndOtherPoems
O sweet everlasting Voices, be st… Go to the guards of the heavenly f… And bid them wander obeying your w… Flame under flame, till Time be n… Have you not heard that our hearts…
Why should I blame her that she f… With misery, or that she would of… Have taught to ignorant men most v… Or hurled the little streets upon… Had they but courage equal to desi…
Come, let me sing into your ear; Those dancing days are gone, All that silk and satin gear; Crouch upon a stone, Wrapping that foul body up
WHEN have I last looked on The round green eyes and the long… Of the dark leopards of the moon? All the wild witches, those most n… For all their broom-sticks and the…
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…
I will arise and go now, and go to… And a small cabin build there, of… Nine bean-rows will I have there,… And live alone in the bee-loud gla… And I shall have some peace there…
YOU ask what—I have found, and f… Nothing but Cromwell’s house and… The lovers and the dancers are bea… And the tall men and the swordsmen… And there is an old beggar wanderi…
ONE that is ever kind said yester… ‘Your well-beloved’s hair has thre… And little shadows come about her… Time can but make it easier to be… Though now it seems impossible, an…
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
Pardon, old fathers, if you still… Somewhere in ear-shot for the stor… Old Dublin merchant “free of the… Or trading out of Galway into Spa… Old country scholar, Robert Emmet…
THE old brown thorn-trees break i… Under a bitter black wind that blo… Our courage breaks like an old tre… But we have hidden in our hearts t… Of Cathleen, the daughter of Houl…
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 hidd…
Hic. ON the grey sand beside the… Under your old wind-beaten tower,… A lamp burns on beside the open bo… That Michael Robartes left, you w… And though you have passed the bes…
‘O WORDS are lightly spoken,’ Said Pearse to Connolly, ‘Maybe a breath of politic words Has withered our Rose Tree; Or maybe but a wind that blows
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,