#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 wrist Turn to a drunken journalist; A girl that knew all Dante once
Through winter-time we call on spring, And through the spring on summer call, And when abounding hedges ring Declare that winter’s best of all; And after that there’s nothing good
#1928 #TheTower
‘O cruel Death, give three things back,… Sang a bone upon the shore; ‘A child found all a child can lack, Whether of pleasure or of rest, Upon the abundance of my breast’:
‘Your eyes that once were never weary of… Are bowed in sotrow under pendulous lids… Because our love is waning.’ And then She: ‘Although our love is waning, let us sta…
#1889 #TheWanderingsOfOisinAndOtherPoems
We should be hidden from their eyes, Being but holy shows And bodies broken like a thorn Whereon the bleak north blows, To think of buried Hector
The lot of love is chosen. I learnt th… Struggling for an image on the track Of the whirling Zodiac. Scarce did he my body touch, Scarce sank he from the west
I THOUGHT no more was needed Youth to prolong Than dumb-bell and foil To keep the body young. Oh, who could have foretold
#1919 #TheWildSwansAtCoole
A BLOODY and a sudden end, Gunshot or a noose, For Death who takes what man would keep… Leaves what man would lose. He might have had my sister,
Behold that great Plotinus swim, Buffeted by such seas; Bland Rhadamanthus beckons him, But the Golden Race looks dim, Salt blood blocks his eyes.
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;
Come, let me sing into your ear; Those dancing days are gone, All that silk and satin gear; Crouch upon a stone, Wrapping that foul body up
ON thrones from China to Peru All sorts of kings have sat That men and women of all sorts proclaimed both good and great; And what’s the odds if such as these
If any man drew near When I was young, I thought, ‘He holds her dear,’ And shook with hate and fear. But O! ‘twas bitter wrong
#1910 #TheGreenHelmetAndOtherPoems
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,
That crazed girl improvising her music. Her poetry, dancing upon the shore, Her soul in division from itself Climbing, falling She knew not where, Hiding amid the cargo of a steamship,
