#1928 #IrishWriters #TheTower
All things can tempt me from this… One time it was a woman’s face, or… The seeming needs of my fool-drive… Now nothing but comes readier to t… Than this accustomed toil. When I…
THE Roaring Tinker if you like, But Mannion is my name, And I beat up the common sort And think it is no shame. The common breeds the common,
All things uncomely and broken, al… The cry of a child by the roadway,… The heavy steps of the ploughman,… Are wronging your image that bloss… The wrong of unshapely things is a…
Do you not hear me calling, white… I have been changed to a hound wit… I have been in the Path of Stones… For somebody hid hatred and hope a… Under my feet that they follow you…
The unpurged images of day recede; The Emperor’s drunken soldiery ar… Night resonance recedes, night-wal… After great cathedral gong; A starlit or a moonlit dome disdai…
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…
‘THOUGH logic-choppers rule the… And every man and maid and boy Has marked a distant object down, An aimless joy is a pure joy,’ Or so did Tom O’Roughley say
ONE that is ever kind said yester… ‘Your well-beloved’s hair has thre… And little shadows come about her… Time can but make it easier to be… Though now it seems impossible, an…
Now must I these three praise— Three women that have wrought What joy is in my days: One because no thought, Nor those unpassing cares,
I WHISPERED, ‘I am too young,… And then, 'I am old enough’; Wherefore I threw a penny To find out if I might love. ‘Go and love, go and love, young m…
I HAVE no happiness in dreaming… Nor Avalon the grass-green hollow… Where one found Lancelot crazed a… Nor Uladh, when Naoise had thrown… Nor lands that seem too dim to be…
The fascination of what’s difficul… Has dried the sap out of my veins,… Spontaneous joy and natural conten… Out of my heart. There’s somethin… That must, as if it had not holy b…
The old priest Peter Gilligan Was weary night and day For half his flock were in their b… Or under green sods lay. Once, while he nodded in a chair
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;
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 Because of my dear Jack that’s de…