The Wild Swans at Coole. 1919.
#IrishWriters
OTHERS because you did not keep That deep-sworn vow have been frie… Yet always when I look death in t… When I clamber to the heights of… Or when I grow excited with wine,
I have old women’s secrets now That had those of the young; Madge tells me what I dared not t… When my blood was strong, And what had drowned a lover once
Pardon, old fathers, if you still… Somewhere in ear-shot for the stor… Old Dublin merchant “free of the… Or trading out of Galway into Spa… Old country scholar, Robert Emmet…
Come praise Colonus’ horses, and… The wine-dark of the wood’s intric… The nightingale that deafens dayli… If daylight ever visit where, Unvisited by tempest or by sun,
I AM worn out with dreams; A weather-worn, marble triton Among the streams; And all day long I look Upon this lady’s beauty
Ribb at the Tomb of Baile and Ai… BECAUSE you have found me in th… With open book you ask me what I… Mark and digest my tale, carry it… To those that never saw this tonsu…
Edain came out of Midhir’s hill,… Beside young Aengus in his tower… Where time is drowned in odour-lad… And Druid moons, and murmuring of… And sleepy boughs, and boughs wher…
I met the Bishop on the road And much said he and I. ‘Those breasts are flat and fallen… Those veins must soon be dry; Live in a heavenly mansion,
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…
What they undertook to do They brought to pass; All things hang like a drop of dew Upon a blade of grass.
The First. My great-grandfather s… In Grattan’s house. The Second. My great-grandfather… A pot-house bench with Oliver Gol… The Third. My great-grandfather’s…
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
HOPE that you may understand! What can books of men that wive In a dragon-guarded land, paintings of the dolphin-drawn Sea-nymphs in their pearly wagons
‘Never shall a young man, Thrown into despair By those great honey-coloured Ramparts at your ear, Love you for yourself alone
The light of evening, Lissadell, Great windows open to the south, Two girls in silk kimonos, both Beautiful, one a gazelle. But a raving autumn shears