#Irish #NobelPrize #XIXCentury #XXCentury
‘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.’
#1889 #TheWanderingsOfOisinAndOtherPoems
I have pointed out the yelling pack, The hare leap to the wood, And when I pass a compliment Rejoice as lover should At the drooping of an eye,
#1928 #TheTower
The Heavenly Circuit; Berenice’s Hair; Tent-pole of Eden; the tent’s drapery; Symbolical glory of thc earth and air! The Father and His angelic hierarchy That made the magnitude and glory there
#1933 #TheWindingStairAndOtherPoems
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,
While I wrought out these fitful Danaan… My heart would brim with dreams about th… When we bent down above the fading coals And talked of the dark folk who live in… Of passionate men, like bats in the dead…
My Paistin Finn is my sole desire, And I am shrunken to skin and bone, For all my heart has had for its hire Is what I can whistle alone and alone. Oro, oro.!
Like the moon her kindness is, If kindness I may call What has no comprehension in’t, But is the same for all As though my sorrow were a scene
Overcome—O bitter sweetness, Inhabitant of the soft cheek of a girl— The rich man and his affairs, The fat flocks and the fields’ fatness, Mariners, rough harvesters;
I bring you with reverent hands The books of my numberless dreams, White woman that passion has worn As the tide wears the dove-grey sands, And with heart more old than the horn
#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;
WHAT sort of man is coming To lie between your feet? What matter, we are but women. Wash; make your body sweet; I have cupboards of dried fragrance.
AND thus declared that Arab lady: ‘Last night, where under the wild moon On grassy mattress I had laid me, Within my arms great Solomon, I suddenly cried out in a strange tongue
I MADE my song a coat Covered with embroideries Out of old mythologies From heel to throat; But the fools caught it,
I wander by the edge Of this desolate lake Where wind cries in the sedge: Until the axle break That keeps the stars in their round,
The angels are stooping Above your bed; They weary of trooping With the whimpering dead. God’s laughing in Heaven
