#Irish #NobelPrize #XIXCentury #XXCentury #1928 #TheTower
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.
STRETCH towards the moonless midnight… As though that hand could reach to where… And they but famous old upholsteries Delightful to the touch; tighten that ha… As though to draw them closer yet.
That civilisation may not sink, Its great battle lost, Quiet the dog, tether the pony To a distant post; Our master Caesar is in the tent
I WHISPERED, ‘I am too young,’ And then, 'I am old enough’; Wherefore I threw a penny To find out if I might love. ‘Go and love, go and love, young man,
I have pointed out the yelling pack, The hare leap to the wood, And when I pass a compliment Rejoice as lover should At the drooping of an eye,
#1928 #TheTower
Once, when midnight smote the air, Eunuchs ran through Hell and met On every crowded street to stare Upon great Juan riding by: Even like these to rail and sweat
The First. My great-grandfather spoke t… In Grattan’s house. The Second. My great-grandfather shared A pot-house bench with Oliver Goldsmith… The Third. My great-grandfather’s fathe…
#1933 #TheWindingStairAndOtherPoems
‘Your eyes that once were never weary of… Are bowed in sotrow under pendulous lids… Because our love is waning.’ And then She: ‘Although our love is waning, let us sta…
#1889 #TheWanderingsOfOisinAndOtherPoems
Through intricate motions ran Stream and gliding sun And all my heart seemed gay: Some stupid thing that I had done Made my attention stray.
I whispered, “I am too young,” And then, “I am old enough”; Wherefore I threw a penny To find out if I might love. “Go and love, go and love, young man,
#1910 #TheGreenHelmetAndOtherPoems
COME swish around, my pretty punk, And keep me dancing still That I may stay a sober man Although I drink my fill. Sobriety is a jewel
Nor dread nor hope attend A dying animal; A man awaits his end Dreading and hoping all; Many times he died,
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
THERE is grey in your hair. Young men no longer suddenly catch their… When you are passing; But maybe some old gaffer mutters a bles… Because it was your prayer
