#IrishWriters
You can see the sandhills from our… Butterflies live in the sandhills and lizards and centipedes.
I love you, malcontent Male wind - Shaking the pollen from a flower Or hurling the sea backward from t… Blow on and over my dreams…
He walked under the shadow of the… Where men are fed into the fires And walled apart… Unarmed and alone, He summoned his mates from the pit…
Nasal intonations of light and clicking tongues... publicity of windows stoning me with pent-up cries... smells of abattoirs...
Rock-a-by baby, woolly and brown’… (There’s a shout at the door an’ a… Lil’ coon baby, mammy is down’¦ Han’s that hold yuh are steady an’… Look piccaninny - such a gran’ bla…
Cherry, cherry, glowing on the hearth, bright red cherry... When you try to pick up cherry Celia’s shriek
Do you remember Honey-melon moon Dripping thick sweet light Where Canal Street saunters off b… And the faint decayed patchouli—
Life You have been good to me... You have not made yourself too dea… to juggle with.
Dour river Jaded with monotony of lights Diving off mast heads.... Lights mad with creating in a rive… Heave up, river...
Last night I watched a star fall like a great… Till my ego expanding encompassed… Containing both as in a trembling…
It is dark’¦ so dark, I remember… It is still’¦ so still, I hear t… Ten times we had watched the moon Rise like a thin white virgin out… And round into a full maternity’¦
I am of the wind... A wisp of the battering wind... I trail my fingers along the Alps And an avalanche falls in my wake.… I feel in my quivering length
Dance, little children... it is ho… Have you hung paper flowers about… Dance soft . . . but very gaily...… Spread your little pinafores And courtesy as the snow does . .…
Where to-day would a dainty buyer Imbibe your scented juice, Pale ruin with a heart of fire; Drain your succulence with her lip… Grown sapless from much use…
(Easter 1916) Censored lies that mimic truth’¦ Censored truth as pale as fear’¦ My heart is like a rousing bell - And but the dead to hear’¦