#1933 #IrishWriters #TheWindingStairAndOtherPoems
I met the Bishop on the road And much said he and I. ‘Those breasts are flat and fallen… Those veins must soon be dry; Live in a heavenly mansion,
‘CALL down the hawk from the air… Let him be hooded or caged Till the yellow eye has grown mild… For larder and spit are bare, The old cook enraged,
Do you not hear me calling, white… I have been changed to a hound wit… I have been in the Path of Stones… For somebody hid hatred and hope a… Under my feet that they follow you…
WAS it the double of my dream The woman that by me lay Dreamed, or did we halve a dream Under the first cold gleam of day? I thought: ‘There is a waterfall
ROSE of all Roses, Rose of all… The tall thought-woven sails, that… Above the tide of hours, trouble t… And God’s bell buoyed to be the w… While hushed from fear, or loud wi…
O WHAT has made that sudden nois… What on the threshold stands? It never crossed the sea because John Bull and the sea are friends… But this is not the old sea
A MAN that had six mortal wounds… Violent and famous, strode among t… Eyes stared out of the branches an… Then certain Shrouds that muttere… Came and were gone. He leant upo…
AN old man cocked his ear upon a… He and his friend, their faces to… Had trod the uneven road. Their b… Their Connemara cloth worn out of… They had kept a steady pace as tho…
Through intricate motions ran Stream and gliding sun And all my heart seemed gay: Some stupid thing that I had done Made my attention stray.
I CALL on those that call me son… Grandson, or great-grandson, On uncles, aunts, great-uncles or… To judge what I have done. Have I, that put it into words,
‘I am of Ireland, And the Holy Land of Ireland, And time runs on,’ cried she. ‘Come out of charity, Come dance with me in Ireland.’
PYTHAGORAS planned it. Why d… His numbers, though they moved or… In marble or in bronze, lacked cha… But boys and girls, pale from the… Of solitary beds, knew what they w…
‘O cruel Death, give three things… Sang a bone upon the shore; ‘A child found all a child can lac… Whether of pleasure or of rest, Upon the abundance of my breast’:
I THOUGHT of your beauty, and… Made out of a wild thought, is in… There’s no man may look upon her,… As when newly grown to be a woman, Tall and noble but with face and b…
Ah, that Time could touch a form That could show what Homer’s age Bred to be a hero’s wage. ‘Were not all her life but storm, Would not painters paint a form