#Irish #NobelPrize #XIXCentury #XXCentury #1933 #TheWindingStairAndOtherPoems
WHY should not old men be mad? Some have known a likely lad That had a sound fly-fisher’s wris… Turn to a drunken journalist; A girl that knew all Dante once
THERE is a queen in China, or m… And birthdays and holidays such pr… Of her unblemished lineaments, a w… That she might be that sprightly g… And there’s a score of duchesses,…
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…
O women, kneeling by your altar-ra… When songs I wove for my beloved… And smoke from this dead heart dri… And covers away the smoke of myrrh… Bend down and pray for all that si…
PARNELL’S FUNERAL UNDER the Great Comedian’s tomb… A bundle of tempestuous cloud is b… About the sky; where that is clear… Brightness remains; a brighter sta…
Where has Maid Quiet gone to, Nodding her russet hood? The winds that awakened the stars Are blowing through my blood. O how could I be so calm
DANCE there upon the shore; What need have you to care For wind or water’s roar? And tumble out your hair That the salt drops have wet;
Ribb at the Tomb of Baile and Ai… BECAUSE you have found me in th… With open book you ask me what I… Mark and digest my tale, carry it… To those that never saw this tonsu…
Though nurtured like the sailing m… In beauty’s murderous brood, She walked awhile and blushed awhi… And on my pathway stood Until I thought her body bore
THERE is grey in your hair. Young men no longer suddenly catch… When you are passing; But maybe some old gaffer mutters… Because it was your prayer
When I play on my fiddle in Doone… Folk dance like a wave of the sea; My cousin is priest in Kilvarnet, My brother in Mocharabuiee. I passed my brother and cousin:
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
As I came over Windy Gap They threw a halfpenny into my cap… For I am running to paradise; And all that I need do is to wish And somebody puts his hand in the…
BECAUSE I am mad about women I am mad about the hills,’ Said that wild old wicked man Who travels where God wills. ‘Not to die on the straw at home.