#Irish #NobelPrize #XIXCentury #XXCentury #1889 #TheWanderingsOfOisinAndOtherPoems
(Song from an Unfinished Play) My mother dandled me and sang, ‘How young it is, how young!’ And made a golden cradle That on a willow swung.
YOU think it horrible that lust a… Should dance attention upon my old… They were not such a plague when… What else have I to spur me into…
Be you still, be you still, trembl… Remember the wisdom out of the old… Him who trembles before the flame… And the winds that blow through th… Let the starry winds and the flame…
SWEETHEART, do not love too l… I loved long and long, And grew to be out of fashion Like an old song. All through the years of our youth
Whence did all that fury come? From empty tomb or Virgin womb? Saint Joseph thought the world wo… But liked the way his finger smelt…
She lived in storm and strife, Her soul had such desire For what proud death may bring That it could not endure The common good of life,
If I make the lashes dark And the eyes more bright And the lips more scarlet, Or ask if all be right From mirror after mirror,
I HAVE heard the pigeons of the… Make their faint thunder, and the… Hum in the lime-tree flowers; and… The unavailing outcries and the ol… That empty the heart. I have forg…
Once, when midnight smote the air, Eunuchs ran through Hell and met On every crowded street to stare Upon great Juan riding by: Even like these to rail and sweat
WHO dreamed that beauty passes li… For these red lips, with all their… Mournful that no new wonder may be… Troy passed away in one high funer… And Usna’s children died.
THE old brown thorn-trees break i… Under a bitter black wind that blo… Our courage breaks like an old tre… But we have hidden in our hearts t… Of Cathleen, the daughter of Houl…
The true faith discovered was When painted panel, statuary. Glass-mosaic, window-glass, Amended what was told awry By some peasant gospeller;
WHAT need you, being come to sen… But fumble in a greasy till And add the halfpence to the pence And prayer to shivering prayer, un… You have dried the marrow from the…
Edain came out of Midhir’s hill,… Beside young Aengus in his tower… Where time is drowned in odour-lad… And Druid moons, and murmuring of… And sleepy boughs, and boughs wher…
‘She will change,’ I cried. ‘Into a withered crone.’ The heart in my side, That so still had lain, In noble rage replied