#Irish #NobelPrize #XIXCentury #XXCentury
FOR certain minutes at the least That crafty demon and that loud beast That plague me day and night Ran out of my sight; Though I had long perned in the gyre,
O cloud-pale eyelids, dream-dimmed eyes, The poets labouring all their days To build a perfect beauty in rhyme Are overthrown by a woman’s gaze And by the unlabouring brood of the skie…
#1899 #TheWindAmongTheReeds
O women, kneeling by your altar-rails lo… When songs I wove for my beloved hide t… And smoke from this dead heart drifts th… And covers away the smoke of myrrh and f… Bend down and pray for all that sin I w…
Dry timber under that rich foliage, At wine-dark midnight in the sacred wood… Too old for a man’s love I stood in rag… Imagining men. Imagining that I could A greater with a lesser pang assuage
You say, as I have often given tongue In praise of what another’s said or sung… ’Twere politic to do the like by these; But was there ever dog that praised his…
#1910 #TheGreenHelmetAndOtherPoems
Kusta Ben Luka is my name, I write To Abd Al-Rabban; fellow-roysterer onc… Now the good Caliph’s learned Treasurer… And for no ear but his. Carry this letter
#1928 #TheTower
My love, we will go, we will go, I and… And away in the woods we will scatter th… And the salmon behold, and the ousel too… My love, we will hear, I and you, we wi… The calling afar of the doe and the deer…
Were you but lying cold and dead, And lights were paling out of the West, You would come hither, and bend your hea… And I would lay my head on your breast; And you would murmur tender words,
WHEN you and my true lover meet And he plays tunes between your feet. Speak no evil of the soul, Nor think that body is the whole, For I that am his daylight lady
Wine comes in at the mouth And love comes in at the eye; That’s all we shall know for truth Before we grow old and die. I lift the glass to my mouth,
#1910 #RhymedStanza #TheGreenHelmetAndOtherPoems
HIS DREAM I SWAYED upon the gaudy stem The butt-end of a steering-oar, And saw wherever I could turn A crowd upon a shore.
AROUND me the images of thirty years: An ambush; pilgrims at the water-side; Casement upon trial, half hidden by the… Guarded; Griffith staring in hysterical… Kevin O’Higgins’ countenance that wears
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…
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
S. Patrick. You who are bent, and bald,… With a heavy heart and a wandering mind, Have known three centuries, poets sing, Of dalliance with a demon thing. Oisin. Sad to remember, sick with years…
#1889 #TheWanderingsOfOisinAndOtherPoems