#Irish #NobelPrize #XIXCentury #XXCentury
If I make the lashes dark And the eyes more bright And the lips more scarlet, Or ask if all be right From mirror after mirror,
Down by the salley gardens my love and… She passed the salley gardens with littl… She bid me take love easy, as the leaves… But I, being young and foolish, with he… In a field by the river my love and I d…
#1889 #TheWanderingsOfOisinAndOtherPoems
THAT civilisation may not sink, Its great battle lost, Quiet the dog, tether the pony To a distant post; Our master Caesar is in the tent
BECAUSE there is safety in derision I talked about an apparition, I took no trouble to convince, Or seem plausible to a man of sense. Distrustful of thar popular eye
I asked if i should pray. But the Brahmin said, ‘pray for nothing, say Every night in bed, ’I have been a king,
#1933 #TheWindingStairAndOtherPoems
OTHERS because you did not keep That deep-sworn vow have been friends of… Yet always when I look death in the fac… When I clamber to the heights of sleep, Or when I grow excited with wine,
HOW came this ranger Now sunk in rest, Stranger with strangcr. On my cold breast? What’s left to Sigh for?
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 trees
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.
I dreamed that I stood in a valley, and… For happy lovers passed two by two where… And I dreamed my lost love came stealth… With her cloud-pale eyelids falling on d… I cried in my dream ‘O women bid the yo…
INDIGNANT at the fumbling wits, the… Of our old paudeen in his shop, I stumb… Among the stones and thorn-trees, under… Until a curlew cried and in the luminous… A curlew answered; and suddenly thereupo…
Sang old Tom the lunatic That sleeps under the canopy: ‘What change has put my thoughts astray And eyes that had so keen a sight? What has turned to smoking wick
Who will go drive with Fergus now, And pierce the deep wood’s woven shade, And dance upon the level shore? Young man, lift up your russet brow, And lift your tender eyelids, maid,
The First. My great-grandfather spoke t… In Grattan’s house. The Second. My great-grandfather shared A pot-house bench with Oliver Goldsmith… The Third. My great-grandfather’s fathe…
‘I am of Ireland, And the Holy Land of Ireland, And time runs on,’ cried she. ‘Come out of charity, Come dance with me in Ireland.’