#Irish #NobelPrize #XIXCentury #XXCentury
‘She will change,’ I cried. ‘Into a withered crone.’ The heart in my side, That so still had lain, In noble rage replied
Although I can see him still, The freckled man who goes To a grey place on a hill In grey Connemara clothes At dawn to cast his flies,
O what to me the little room That was brimmed up with prayer an… He bade me out into the gloom, And my breast lies upon his breast… O what to me my mother’s care,
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 GYRES! the gyres! Old Roc… Things thought too long can be no… For beauty dies of beauty, worth o… And ancient lineaments are blotted… Irrational streams of blood are st…
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,
FOR certain minutes at the least That crafty demon and that loud be… That plague me day and night Ran out of my sight; Though I had long perned in the g…
Once, when midnight smote the air, Eunuchs ran through Hell and met On every crowded street to stare Upon great Juan riding by: Even like these to rail and sweat
Surely among a rich man s flowerin… Amid the rustle of his planted hil… Life overflows without ambitious p… And rains down life until the basi… And mounts more dizzy high the mor…
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…
IF Michael, leader of God’s host When Heaven and Hell are met, Looked down on you from Heaven’s… He would his deeds forget. Brooding no more upon God’s wars
Acquaintance; companion; One dear brilliant woman; The best-endowed, the elect, All by their youth undone, All, all, by that inhuman
The harlot sang to the beggar-man. I meet them face to face, Conall, Cuchulain, Usna’s boys, All that most ancient race; Maeve had three in an hour, they s…
Blessed be this place, More blessed still this tower; A bloody, arrogant power Rose out of the race Uttering, mastering it,
POETRY, music, I have loved, an… Because of those new dead That come into my soul and escape Confusion of the bed, Or those begotten or unbegotten