#Irish #NobelPrize #XIXCentury #XXCentury #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.
PICTURE and book remain, An acre of green grass For air and exercise, Now strength of body goes; Midnight, an old house
(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…
WHEN you and my true lover meet And he plays tunes between your fe… Speak no evil of the soul, Nor think that body is the whole, For I that am his daylight lady
He. Dear, I must be gone While night Shuts the eyes Of the household spies; That song announces dawn. She. No, night’s bird and love’s
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,
From pleasure of the bed, Dull as a worm, His rod and its butting head Limp as a worm, His spirit that has fled
Although crowds gathered once if s… And even old men’s eyes grew dim,… Like some last courtier at a gypsy… Babbling of fallen majesty, record… The lineaments, a heart that laugh…
The island dreams under the dawn And great boughs drop tranquillity… The peahens dance on a smooth lawn… A parrot sways upon a tree, Raging at his own image in the ena…
I have met them at close of day Coming with vivid faces From counter or desk among grey Eighteenth-century houses. I have passed with a nod of the he…
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
I’LL say and maybe dream I have… Seeing that time has frozen up the… The wick of youth being burned and… From beauty that is cast out of a… In bronze, or that in dazzling mar…
Ah, but Time has touched a form That could show what Homer’s age Bred to be a hero’s wage. ‘Were not all her life but storm, Would not painters paint a form
WHEN have I last looked on The round green eyes and the long… Of the dark leopards of the moon? All the wild witches, those most n… For all their broom-sticks and the…
Dear Craoibhin Aoibhin, look into… When we are high and airy hundreds… That if we hold that flight they’l… While those same hundreds mock ano… Because we have made our art of co…