#Irish #NobelPrize #XIXCentury #XXCentury #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,
Though you are in your shining days, Voices among the crowd And new friends busy with your praise, Be not unkind or proud, But think about old friends the most:
#1899 #TheWindAmongTheReeds
POETRY, music, I have loved, and yet Because of those new dead That come into my soul and escape Confusion of the bed, Or those begotten or unbegotten
We, who seven years ago Talked of honour and of truth, Shriek with pleasure if we show The weasel’s twist, the weasel’s tooth.
HOPE that you may understand! What can books of men that wive In a dragon-guarded land, paintings of the dolphin-drawn Sea-nymphs in their pearly wagons
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;
THE moments passed as at a play; I had the wisdom love brings forth; I had my share of mother-wit, And yet for all that I could say, And though I had her praise for it,
A DOLL in the doll-maker’s house Looks at the cradle and bawls: ‘That is an insult to us.’ But the oldest of all the dolls, Who had seen, being kept for show,
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,
THE old brown thorn-trees break in two… Under a bitter black wind that blows fro… Our courage breaks like an old tree in a… But we have hidden in our hearts the fla… Of Cathleen, the daughter of Houlihan.
A moonlight moor. Fairies leading a… Male Fairies: Do not fear us, earthly m… We will lead you hand in hand By the willows in the glade, By the gorse on the high land,
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,
I care not what the sailors say: All those dreadful thunder-stones, All that storm that blots the day Can but show that Heaven yawns; Great Europa played the fool
WHO dreamed that beauty passes like a d… For these red lips, with all their mourn… Mournful that no new wonder may betide, Troy passed away in one high funeral gle… And Usna’s children died.
A man came slowly from the setting sun, To Emer, raddling raiment in her dun, And said, “I am that swineherd whom you… Go watch the road between the wood and t… But now I have no need to watch it more…
