#Irish #NobelPrize #XIXCentury #XXCentury #1910 #TheGreenHelmetAndOtherPoems
I have drunk ale from the Country… And weep because I know all thing… I have been a hazel-tree, and they… The Pilot Star and the Crooked P… Among my leaves in times out of mi…
HAS no one said those daring Kind eyes should be more learn’d? Or warned you how despairing The moths are when they are burned… I could have warned you; but you a…
The heron-billed pale cattle-birds That feed on some foul parasite Of the Moroccan flocks and herds Cross the narrow Straits to light In the rich midnight of the garden…
We should be hidden from their eye… Being but holy shows And bodies broken like a thorn Whereon the bleak north blows, To think of buried Hector
FASTEN your hair with a golden… 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
Scene: A circle of Druidic sto… First Fairy: Afar from our lawn a… O sister of sorrowful gaze! Where the roses in scarlet are hea… And dream of the end of their days…
I sat on cushioned otter-skin: My word was law from Ith to Emain… And shook at Inver Amergin The hearts of the world-troubling… And drove tumult and war away
I know that I shall meet my fate Somewhere among the clouds above; Those that I fight I do not hate Those that I guard I do not love; My country is Kiltartan Cross,
THREE old hermits took the air By a cold and desolate sea, First was muttering a prayer, Second rummaged for a flea; On a windy stone, the third,
There where the course is, Delight makes all of the one mind, The riders upon the galloping hors… The crowd that closes in behind: We, too, had good attendance once,
You gave, but will not give again Until enough of paudeen’s pence By Biddy’s halfpennies have lain To be 'some sort of evidence’, Before you’ll put your guineas dow…
‘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’:
‘Never shall a young man, Thrown into despair By those great honey-coloured Ramparts at your ear, Love you for yourself alone
Much did I rage when young, Being by the world oppressed, But now with flattering tongue It speeds the parting guest.
COME swish around, my pretty pun… And keep me dancing still That I may stay a sober man Although I drink my fill. Sobriety is a jewel