#Irish #NobelPrize #XIXCentury #XXCentury #1910 #TheGreenHelmetAndOtherPoems
O curlew, cry no more in the air, Or only to the water in the West; Because your crying brings to my mind passion-dimmed eyes and long heavy hair That was shaken out over my breast:
#1899 #TheWindAmongTheReeds
Where dips the rocky highland Of Sleuth Wood in the lake, There lies a leafy island Where flapping herons wake The drowsy water rats;
#1889 #TheWanderingsOfOisinAndOtherPoems
Though nurtured like the sailing moon In beauty’s murderous brood, She walked awhile and blushed awhile And on my pathway stood Until I thought her body bore
#1928 #TheTower
I walked among the seven woods of Coole… Shan-walla, where a willow-hordered pond Gathers the wild duck from the winter da… Shady Kyle-dortha; sunnier Kyle-na-no, Where many hundred squirrels are as happ…
Once, when midnight smote the air, Eunuchs ran through Hell and met From thoroughfare to thoroughfare, While that great Juan galloped by; And like these to rail and sweat
Half close your eyelids, loosen your hai… And dream about the great and their prid… They have spoken against you everywhere, But weigh this song with the great and t… I made it out of a mouthful of air,
He. Opinion is not worth a rush; In this altar-piece the knight, Who grips his long spear so to push That dragon through the fading light, Loved the lady; and it’s plain
The island dreams under the dawn And great boughs drop tranquillity; The peahens dance on a smooth lawn, A parrot sways upon a tree, Raging at his own image in the enamelled…
‘What do you make so fair and bright?’ ‘I make the cloak of Sorrow: O lovely to see in all men’s sight Shall be the cloak of Sorrow, In all men’s sight.’
Fergus. This whole day have I followed… And you have changed and flowed from sha… First as a raven on whose ancient wings Scarcely a feather lingered, then you se… A weasel moving on from stone to stone,
That is no country for old men. The you… In one another’s arms, birds in the tree… —Those dying generations—at their song, The salmon—falls, the mackerel—crowded s… Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer…
PROCESSIONS that lack high stilts h… What if my great-granddad had a pair tha… And mine were but fifteen foot, no moder… Some rogue of the world stole them to pa… Because piebald ponies, led bears, caged…
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 down,
When the flaming lute-thronged angelic d… When an immortal passion breathes in mor… Our hearts endure the scourge, the plait… Crowded with bitter faces, the wounds in… The vinegar-heavy sponge, the flowers by…
FASTEN your hair with a golden pin, And bind up every wandering tress; I bade my heart build these poor rhymes: It worked at them, day out, day in, Building a sorrowful loveliness