#Irish #NobelPrize #XIXCentury #XXCentury #1933 #TheWindingStairAndOtherPoems
I THOUGHT of your beauty, and this a… Made out of a wild thought, is in my mar… There’s no man may look upon her, no man… As when newly grown to be a woman, Tall and noble but with face and bosom
I HEARD the old, old men say, ‘Everything alters, And one by one we drop away.’ They had hands like claws, and their kne… Were twisted like the old thorn-trees
What lively lad most pleasured me Of all that with me lay? I answer that I gave my soul And loved in misery, But had great pleasure with a lad
The threefold terror of love; a fallen f… Through the hollow of an ear; Wings beating about the room; The terror of all terrors that I bore The Heavens in my womb.
#1933 #TheWindingStairAndOtherPoems
Although I can see him still, The freckled man who goes To a grey place on a hill In grey Connemara clothes At dawn to cast his flies,
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
O’Driscoll drove with a song The wild duck and the drake From the tall and the tufted reeds Of the drear Hart Lake. And he saw how the reeds grew dark
#1899 #TheWindAmongTheReeds
While I, that reed-throated whisperer Who comes at need, although not now as o… A clear articulation in the air, But inwardly, surmise companions Beyond the fling of the dull ass’s hoof
KING EOCHAID came at sundown to a w… Westward of Tara. Hurrying to his quee… He had outridden his war-wasted men That with empounded cattle trod the mire… And where beech-trees had mixed a pale g…
She hears me strike the board and say That she is under ban Of all good men and women, Being mentioned with a man That has the worst of all bad names;
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,
FOR certain minutes at the least That crafty demon and that loud beast That plague me day and night Ran out of my sight; Though I had long perned in the gyre,
Three Voices [together]. Hurry to bless… The mouths that speak, the notes and str… O masters of the glittering town! O! lay the shrilly trumpet down, Though drunken with the flags that sway
I ranted to the knave and fool, But outgrew that school, Would transform the part, Fit audience found, but cannot rule My fanatic heart.
ALL the words that I utter, And all the words that I write, Must spread out their wings untiring, And never rest in their flight, Till they come where your sad, sad heart…