#Irish #NobelPrize
ONE had a lovely face, And two or three had charm, But charm and face were in vain Because the mountain grass Cannot but keep the form
What’s riches to him That has made a great peacock With the pride of his eye? The wind-beaten, stone-grey, And desolate Three Rock
Who will go drive with Fergus now… And pierce the deep wood’s woven s… And dance upon the level shore? Young man, lift up your russet bro… And lift your tender eyelids, maid…
BECAUSE there is safety in deri… I talked about an apparition, I took no trouble to convince, Or seem plausible to a man of sens… Distrustful of thar popular eye
Ah, that Time could touch a form That could show what Homer’s age Bred to be a hero’s wage. ‘Were not all her life but storm, Would not painters paint a form
Through winter-time we call on spr… And through the spring on summer c… And when abounding hedges ring Declare that winter’s best of all; And after that there’s nothing goo…
The harlot sang to the beggar-man. I meet them face to face, Conall, Cuchulain, Usna’s boys, All that most ancient race; Maeve had three in an hour, they s…
I will arise and go now, and go to… And a small cabin build there, of… Nine bean-rows will I have there,… And live alone in the bee-loud gla… And I shall have some peace there…
O but there is wisdom In what the sages said; But stretch that body for a while And lay down that head Till I have told the sages
Shy one, shy one, Shy one of my heart, She moves in the firelight Pensively apart. She carries in the dishes,
I, THE poet William Yeats, With old mill boards and sea-green… And smithy work from the Gort for… Restored this tower for my wife G… And may these characters remain
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…
I’LL say and maybe dream I have… Seeing that time has frozen up the… The wick of youth being burned and… From beauty that is cast out of a… In bronze, or that in dazzling mar…
Bid a strong ghost stand at the he… That my Michael may sleep sound, Nor cry, nor turn in the bed Till his morning meal come round; And may departing twilight keep
THE girl goes dancing there On the leaf-sown, new-mown, smooth Grass plot of the garden; Escaped from bitter youth, Escaped out of her crowd,