#Irish #NobelPrize #XIXCentury #XXCentury #1910 #TheGreenHelmetAndOtherPoems
‘Those Platonists are a curse,’ he said… ‘God’s fire upon the wane, A diagram hung there instead, More women born than men.’
#1933 #TheWindingStairAndOtherPoems
PYTHAGORAS planned it. Why did the… His numbers, though they moved or seemed… In marble or in bronze, lacked character… But boys and girls, pale from the imagin… Of solitary beds, knew what they were,
Hunchback. STAND up and lift your han… A man that finds great bitterness In thinking of his lost renown. A Roman Caesar is held down Under this hump.
Wine comes in at the mouth And love comes in at the eye; That’s all we shall know for truth Before we grow old and die. I lift the glass to my mouth,
The angels are stooping Above your bed; They weary of trooping With the whimpering dead. God’s laughing in Heaven
HURRAH for revolution and more cannon… A beggar upon horseback lashes a beggar… Hurrah for revolution and cannon come ag… The beggars have changed places, but the…
What shall I do with this absurdity— O heart, O troubled heart—this caricatu… Decrepit age that has been tied to me As to a dog’s tail? Never had I more
#1928 #TheTower
Who talks of Plato’s spindle; What set it whirling round? Eternity may dwindle, Time is unwound, Dan and Jerry Lout
I found that ivory image there Dancing with her chosen youth, But when he wound her coal-black hair As though to strangle her, no scream Or bodily movement did I dare,
She lived in storm and strife, Her soul had such desire For what proud death may bring That it could not endure The common good of life,
#1910 #TheGreenHelmetAndOtherPoems
FATHER AND CHILD SHE hears me strike the board and say That she is under ban Of all good men and women, Being mentioned with a man
ALL the heavy days are over; Leave the body’s coloured pride Underneath the grass and clover, With the feet laid side by side. One with her are mirth and duty;
When I play on my fiddle in Dooney. Folk dance like a wave of the sea; My cousin is priest in Kilvarnet, My brother in Mocharabuiee. I passed my brother and cousin:
#1899 #TheWindAmongTheReeds
WE sat together at one summer’s end, That beautiful mild woman, your close fr… And you and I, and talked of poetry. I said, 'A line will take us hours mayb… Yet if it does not seem a moment’s thoug…
Were you but lying cold and dead, And lights were paling out of the West, You would come hither, and bend your hea… And I would lay my head on your breast; And you would murmur tender words,
