#IrishWriters #NobelPrize #1933 #TheWindingStairAndOtherPoems
When you are old and grey and full… And nodding by the fire, take down… And slowly read, and dream of the… Your eyes had once, and of their s… How many loved your moments of gla…
I sat on cushioned otter-skin: My word was law from Ith to Emain… And shook at Inver Amergin The hearts of the world-troubling… And drove tumult and war away
I ranted to the knave and fool, But outgrew that school, Would transform the part, Fit audience found, but cannot rul… My fanatic heart.
It is now more than ten years since I met, for the last time, Michael Robartes, and for the first time and the last time his friends and fellow students; and witnessed his and their tra...
When Loie Fuller’s Chinese dance… A shining web, a floating ribbon o… It seemed that a dragon of air Had fallen among dancers, had whir… Or hurried them off on its own fur…
Never give all the heart, for love Will hardly seem worth thinking of To passionate women if it seem Certain, and they never dream That it fades out from kiss to kis…
Come play with me; Why should you run Through the shaking tree As though I’d a gun To strike you dead?
I saw a staring virgin stand Where holy Dionysus died, And tear the heart out of his side… And lay the heart upon her hand And bear that beating heart away;
I did the dragon’s will until you… Because I had fancied love a casu… Improvisation, or a settled game That followed if I let the kerchi… Those deeds were best that gave th…
HIS chosen comrades thought at sc… He must grow a famous man; He thought the same and lived by r… All his twenties crammed with toil… ‘What then?’ sang Plato’s ghost.…
Sung by the people of Faery ov… We who are old, old and gay, O so old! Thousands of years, thousands of y… If all were told:
O bid me mount and sail up there Amid the cloudy wrack, For peg and Meg and Paris’ love That had so straight a back, Are gone away, and some that stay
DO not because this day I have gr… Imagine that lost love, inseparabl… Because I have no other youth, ca… For how should I forget the wisdo… The comfort that you made? Althou…
O cloud-pale eyelids, dream-dimmed… 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 th…
Swayed upon the gaudy stern The butt-end of a steering-oar, And saw wherever I could turn A crown upon the shore. I And though I would have hushed…
