#1933 #IrishWriters #TheWindingStairAndOtherPoems
Poets with whom I learned my trad… Companions of the Cheshire Cheese… Here’s an old story I’ve remade, Imagining 'twould better please Your cars than stories now in fash…
THE old brown thorn-trees break i… Under a bitter black wind that blo… Our courage breaks like an old tre… But we have hidden in our hearts t… Of Cathleen, the daughter of Houl…
I THINK it better that in times… A poet’s mouth be silent, for in t… We have no gift to set a statesman… He has had enough of meddling who… A young girl in the indolence of h…
On Cruachan’s plain slept he That must sing in a rhyme What most could shake his soul: ‘The stallion Eternity Mounted the mare of Time,
Who talks of Plato’s spindle; What set it whirling round? Eternity may dwindle, Time is unwound, Dan and Jerry Lout
BEING out of heart with governme… I took a broken root to fling Where the proud, wayward squirrel… Taking delight that he could sprin… And he, with that low whinnying so…
POUR wine and dance if manhood s… Bring roses if the rose be yet in… The cataract smokes upon the mount… Our Father Rosicross is in his to… Pull down the blinds, bring fiddle…
What shall I do with this absurdi… O heart, O troubled heart—this ca… Decrepit age that has been tied to… As to a dog’s tail? Never had I more
Where had her sweetness gone? What fanatics invent In this blind bitter town, Fantasy or incident Not worth thinking of,
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
WOULD I could cast a sail on th… Where many a king has gone And many a king’s daughter, And alight at the comely trees and… The playing upon pipes and the dan…
I have met them at close of day Coming with vivid faces From counter or desk among grey Eighteenth-century houses. I have passed with a nod of the he…
When my arms wrap you round I pre… My heart upon the loveliness That has long faded from the world… The jewelled crowns that kings hav… In shadowy pools, when armies fled…
A MAN I praise that once in Tar… Said to the woman on his knees, ‘… My hundredth year is at an end.… That something is about to happen,… That the adventure of old age begi…
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