The Wild Swans at Coole. 1919.
#IrishWriters
Come, let me sing into your ear; Those dancing days are gone, All that silk and satin gear; Crouch upon a stone, Wrapping that foul body up
I dreamed that I stood in a valle… For happy lovers passed two by two… And I dreamed my lost love came s… With her cloud-pale eyelids fallin… I cried in my dream ‘O women bid…
THREE old hermits took the air By a cold and desolate sea, First was muttering a prayer, Second rummaged for a flea; On a windy stone, the third,
PARNELL came down the road, he… 'Ireland shall get her freedom and…
KNOW, that I would accounted be True brother of a company That sang, to sweeten Ireland’s w… Ballad and story, rann and song; Nor be I any less of them,
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,
Scene: A circle of Druidic sto… First Fairy: Afar from our lawn a… O sister of sorrowful gaze! Where the roses in scarlet are hea… And dream of the end of their days…
GOD grant a blessing on this towe… And on my heirs, if all remain uns… No table, or chair or stool not si… For shepherd lads in Galilee; and… That I myself for portions of the…
I CALL on those that call me son… Grandson, or great-grandson, On uncles, aunts, great-uncles or… To judge what I have done. Have I, that put it into words,
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…
HAS no one said those daring Kind eyes should be more learn’d? Or warned you how despairing The moths are when they are burned… I could have warned you; but you a…
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;
Scene: A house made of logs. There are two windows at the back and a door which cuts off one of the corners of the room. Through the door one can see low rocks which make the ground out...
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
WHAT woman hugs her infant there… Another star has shot an ear. What made the drapery glisten so? Not a man but Delacroix. What made the ceiling waterproof?