#Irish #NobelPrize #XIXCentury #XXCentury #1928 #TheTower
Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths, Enwrought with golden and silver light, The blue and the dim and the dark cloths Of night and light and the half-light, I would spread the cloths under your fee…
The jester walked in the garden: The garden had fallen still; He bade his soul rise upward And stand on her window—sill. It rose in a straight blue garment,
#1899 #Ballad #TheWindAmongTheReeds
The threefold terror of love; a fallen f… Through the hollow of an ear; Wings beating about the room; The terror of all terrors that I bore The Heavens in my womb.
#1933 #TheWindingStairAndOtherPoems
Bring me to the blasted oak That I, midnight upon the stroke, (All find safety in the tomb.) May call down curses on his head Because of my dear Jack that’s dead.
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
‘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
A strange thing surely that my heart whe… Upon the Norman upland or in that popla… Should find no burden but itself and yet… It could not bear that burden and theref… The south wind brought it longing, and t…
#1928 #TheTower
I went out alone To sing a song or two, My fancy on a man, And you know who. Another came in sight
I dreamed as in my bed I lay, All night’s fathomless wisdom come, That I had shorn my locks away And laid them on Love’s lettered tomb: But something bore them out of sight
‘TIME to put off the world and go some… And find my health again in the sea air,… Beggar to beggar cried, being frenzy-str… ‘And make my soul before my pate is bare… ’And get a comfortable wife and house
I HAVE no happiness in dreaming of Br… Nor Avalon the grass-green hollow, nor… Where one found Lancelot crazed and hid… Nor Uladh, when Naoise had thrown a sai… Nor lands that seem too dim to be burden…
A STATESMAN is an easy man, He tells his lies by rote; A journalist makes up his lies And takes you by the throat; So stay at home’ and drink your beer
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…
Who talks of Plato’s spindle; What set it whirling round? Eternity may dwindle, Time is unwound, Dan and Jerry Lout
Violence upon the roads: violence of ho… Some few have handsome riders, are garla… On delicate sensitive ear or tossing man… But wearied running round and round in t… All break and vanish, and evil gathers h…
