#Irish #NobelPrize
DEAR fellow-artist, why so free With every sort of company, With every Jack and Jill? Choose your companions from the be… Who draws a bucket with the rest
BEAUTIFUL lofty things: O’Le… My father upon the Abbey stage, b… ‘This Land of Saints,’ and then a… 'Of plaster Saints’; his beautifu… Standish O’Grady supporting himse…
BECAUSE we love bare hills and… And were the last to choose the se… Its boredom of the desk or of the… So many years companioned by a hou… Our voices carry; and though slumb…
THERE all the golden codgers lay… There the silver dew, And the great water sighed for lov… And the wind sighed too. Man-picker Niamh leant and sighed
O, curlew, cry no more in the air, Or only to the waters in the West… Because your crying brings to my m… Passion-dimmed eyes and long heavy… That was shaken out over my breast…
Shepherd. That cry’s from the fir… I wished before it ceased. Goatherd. Nor bird nor beast Could make me wish for anything th… Being old, but that the old alone…
BIRD sighs for the air, Thought for I know not where, For the womb the seed sighs. Now sinks the same rest On mind, on nest,
There where the course is, Delight makes all of the one mind, The riders upon the galloping hors… The crowd that closes in behind: We, too, had good attendance once,
HERE at right of the entrance th… Human, superhuman, a bird’s round… Everything else withered and mummy… What great tomb-haunter sweeps the… (Something may linger there though…
Poets with whom I learned my trad… Companions of the Cheshire Cheese… Here’s an old story I’ve remade, Imagining 'twould better please Your cars than stories now in fash…
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…
Whence did all that fury come? From empty tomb or Virgin womb? Saint Joseph thought the world wo… But liked the way his finger smelt…
Overcome—O bitter sweetness, Inhabitant of the soft cheek of a… The rich man and his affairs, The fat flocks and the fields’ fat… Mariners, rough harvesters;
Things out of perfection sail, And all their swelling canvas wear… Nor shall the self-begotten fail Though fantastic men suppose Building-yard and stormy shore,
A MAN I praise that once in Tar… Said to the woman on his knees, ‘… My hundredth year is at an end.… That something is about to happen,… That the adventure of old age begi…
