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 SAY that Roger Casement Did what he had to do. He died upon the gallows, But that is nothing new. Afraid they might be beaten

PICTURE and book remain, An acre of green grass For air and exercise, Now strength of body goes; Midnight, an old house

Who talks of Plato’s spindle; What set it whirling round? Eternity may dwindle, Time is unwound, Dan and Jerry Lout

WHAT’S riches to him That has made a great peacock With the pride of his eye? The wind-beaten, stone-grey, And desolate Three Rock

I have met them at close of day Coming with vivid faces From counter or desk among grey Eighteenth-century houses. I have passed with a nod of the he…

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…

ALL the heavy days are over; Leave the body’s coloured pride Underneath the grass and clover, With the feet laid side by side. Bathed in flaming founts of duty

First Love THOUGH nurtured like the sailin… In beauty’s murderous brood, She walked awhile and blushed awhi… And on my pathway stood

Fasten your hair with a golden pin… And bind up every wandering tress; I bade my heart build these poor r… It worked at them, day out, day in… Building a sorrowful loveliness