#1910 #IrishWriters #RhymedStanza #TheGreenHelmetAndOtherPoems
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;
SAID lady once to lover, ‘None can rely upon A love that lacks its proper food; And if your love were gone How could you sing those songs of…
Time drops in decay, Like a candle burnt out, And the mountains and the woods Have their day, have their day; What one in the rout
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,
FATHER AND CHILD SHE hears me strike the board and… That she is under ban Of all good men and women, Being mentioned with a man
(For Harry Clifton) I HAVE heard that hysterical wom… They are sick of the palette and f… Of poets that are always gay, For everybody knows or else should…
Your hooves have stamped at the bl… Even where horrible green parrots… My works are all stamped down into… I knew that horse-play, knew it fo… What wholesome sun has ripened is…
I TURN round Like a dumb beast in a show. Neither know what I am Nor where I go, My language beaten
Crazed through much child-bearing The moon is staggering in the sky; Moon-struck by the despairing Glances of her wandering eye We grope, and grope in vain,
ON the grey rock of Cashel the mi… Has called up the cold spirits tha… When the old moon is vanished from… And the new still hides her horn. Under blank eyes and fingers never…
We who are old, old and gay, O so old! Thousands of years, thousands of y… If all were told: Give to these children, new from t…
BELOVED, gaze in thine own hear… The holy tree is growing there; From joy the holy branches start, And all the trembling flowers they… The changing colours of its fruit
Where dips the rocky highland Of Sleuth Wood in the lake, There lies a leafy island Where flapping herons wake The drowsy water rats;
I– CRAZY JANE AND THE B… 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
WHEN all works that have From cradle run to grave From grave to cradle run instead; When thoughts that a fool Has wound upon a spool