#Irish #NobelPrize #XIXCentury #XXCentury #1933 #TheWindingStairAndOtherPoems
I found that ivory image there Dancing with her chosen youth, But when he wound her coal-black hair As though to strangle her, no scream Or bodily movement did I dare,
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
#1899 #TheWindAmongTheReeds
Man. In a cleft that’s christened Alt Under broken stone I halt At the bottom of a pit That broad noon has never lit, And shout a secret to the stone.
He. Dear, I must be gone While night Shuts the eyes Of the household spies; That song announces dawn. She. No, night’s bird and love’s
‘She will change,’ I cried. ‘Into a withered crone.’ The heart in my side, That so still had lain, In noble rage replied
ARGUMENT. Baile and Aillinn were l… Master of Love, wishing them to he happ… among the dead, told to each a story of… that their hearts were broken and they d… I HARDLY hear the curlew cry,
“Put off that mask of burning gold With emerald eyes.” “O no, my dear, you make so bold To find if hearts be wild and wise, And yet not cold.”
#1910 #TheGreenHelmetAndOtherPoems
‘O cruel Death, give three things back,… Sang a bone upon the shore; ‘A child found all a child can lack, Whether of pleasure or of rest, Upon the abundance of my breast’:
THE old brown thorn-trees break in two… Under a bitter black wind that blows fro… Our courage breaks like an old tree in a… But we have hidden in our hearts the fla… Of Cathleen, the daughter of Houlihan.
Swear by what the sages spoke Round the Mareotic Lake That the Witch of Atlas knew, Spoke and set the cocks a-crow. Swear by those horsemen, by those women
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
MY dear, my dear, I know More than another What makes your heart beat so; Not even your own mother Can know it as I know,
Three Voices [together]. Hurry to bless… The mouths that speak, the notes and str… O masters of the glittering town! O! lay the shrilly trumpet down, Though drunken with the flags that sway
BECAUSE we love bare hills and stunte… And were the last to choose the settled… Its boredom of the desk or of the spade,… So many years companioned by a hound, Our voices carry; and though slumber-bou…
I WOULD be ignorant as the dawn That has looked down On that old queen measuring a town With the pin of a brooch, Or on the withered men that saw
