#Irish #NobelPrize #XIXCentury #XXCentury #1933 #TheWindingStairAndOtherPoems
How should the world be luckier if this… Where passion and precision have been on… Time out of mind, became too ruinous To breed the lidleSs eye that loves the… And the sweet laughing eagle thoughts th…
#1910 #TheGreenHelmetAndOtherPoems
I HAD this thought a while ago, ‘My darling cannot understand What I have done, or what would do In this blind bitter land.’ And I grew weary of the sun
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,
Things out of perfection sail, And all their swelling canvas wear, Nor shall the self-begotten fail Though fantastic men suppose Building-yard and stormy shore,
My Paistin Finn is my sole desire, And I am shrunken to skin and bone, For all my heart has had for its hire Is what I can whistle alone and alone. Oro, oro.!
The Heavenly Circuit; Berenice’s Hair; Tent-pole of Eden; the tent’s drapery; Symbolical glory of thc earth and air! The Father and His angelic hierarchy That made the magnitude and glory there
#1933 #TheWindingStairAndOtherPoems
The jester walked in the garden: The garden had fallen still; He bade his soul rise upward And stand on her window—sill. It rose in a straight blue garment,
#1899 #Ballad #TheWindAmongTheReeds
Ribb at the Tomb of Baile and Aillinn BECAUSE you have found me in the pitc… With open book you ask me what I do. Mark and digest my tale, carry it afar To those that never saw this tonsured he…
A crazy man that found a cup, When all but dead of thirst, Hardly dared to wet his mouth Imagining, moon-accursed, That another mouthful
#1928 #TheTower
IN MEMORY OF EVA GORE-BO… THE light of evening, Lissadell, Great windows open to the south, Two girls in silk kimonos, both Beautiful, one a gazelle.
I whispered, “I am too young,” And then, “I am old enough”; Wherefore I threw a penny To find out if I might love. “Go and love, go and love, young man,
WOULD I could cast a sail on the wate… Where many a king has gone And many a king’s daughter, And alight at the comely trees and the l… The playing upon pipes and the dancing,
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.
WHY should not old men be mad? Some have known a likely lad That had a sound fly-fisher’s wrist Turn to a drunken journalist; A girl that knew all Dante once
She lived in storm and strife, Her soul had such desire For what proud death may bring That it could not endure The common good of life,
