#1933 #IrishWriters #TheWindingStairAndOtherPoems
HIS DREAM I SWAYED upon the gaudy stem The butt-end of a steering-oar, And saw wherever I could turn A crowd upon a shore.
A strange thing surely that my hea… Upon the Norman upland or in that… Should find no burden but itself a… It could not bear that burden and… The south wind brought it longing,…
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
The host is riding from Knocknare… And over the grave of Clooth-na-B… Caoilte tossing his burning hair, And Niamh calling Away, come away… Empty your heart of its mortal dre…
I THINK it better that in times… A poet’s mouth be silent, for in t… We have no gift to set a statesman… He has had enough of meddling who… A young girl in the indolence of h…
Where had her sweetness gone? What fanatics invent In this blind bitter town, Fantasy or incident Not worth thinking of,
A BLOODY and a sudden end, Gunshot or a noose, For Death who takes what man woul… Leaves what man would lose. He might have had my sister,
Some may have blamed you that you… The verses that could move them on… When, the ears being deafened, the… With lightning, you went from me,… Nothing to make a song about but k…
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… But something bore them out of sig…
HANDS, do what you’re bid; Bring the balloon of the mind That bellies and drags in the wind Into its narrow shed.
Earth in beauty dressed Awaits returning spring. All true love must die, Alter at the best Into some lesser thing.
BEING out of heart with governme… I took a broken root to fling Where the proud, wayward squirrel… Taking delight that he could sprin… And he, with that low whinnying so…
THE Colonel went out sailing, He spoke with Turk and Jew, With Christian and with Infidel, For all tongues he knew. 'O what’s a wifeless man?' said he…
YOU ask what—I have found, and f… Nothing but Cromwell’s house and… The lovers and the dancers are bea… And the tall men and the swordsmen… And there is an old beggar wanderi…
You say, as I have often given to… In praise of what another’s said o… ’Twere politic to do the like by t… But was there ever dog that praise…