#IrishWriters
I see you, refulgent ones, Burning so steadily Like big white arc lights... There are so many of you. I like to watch you weaving—
I remember The crackle of the palm trees Over the mooned white roofs of the… The shining town’¦ And the tender fumbling of the sur…
What of the silence of the keys And silvery hands? The iron sings… Though bows lie broken on the stri… The fly-wheels turn eternally’¦ Bring fuel - drive the fires high’…
That day, in the slipping of torso… on the bloodied ooze of fields plo… And the smoke bluish near earth an… floating like cotton-down, And the harsh and terrible screami…
How should they appraise you, who… Only time standing well off shall…
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…
Drab discoloration Of faces, façades, pawn-shops, Second-hand clothing, Smoky and fly-blown glass of lunch… Odors of rancid life’¦
I would be a torch unto your hand, A lamp upon your forehead, Labor, In the wild darkness before the D… That I shall never see… We shall advance together, my Bel…
I have a dream to fill the golden sheath of a remembered day.... (Air heavy and massed and blue
There is music in the strong Deep-throated bush, Whisperings of song Heard in the leaves’ hush - Ballads of the trees
Cherry, cherry, glowing on the hearth, bright red cherry... When you try to pick up cherry Celia’s shriek
We are old, Old as song. Before Rome was Or Cyrene. Mad nights knew us
Men die’¦ Dreams only change their houses. They cannot be lined up against a… And quietly buried under ground, And no more heard of’¦
Because you are four years old the candle is all dressed up in a… And stars nod to you through the h… (except the big stiff planets too fat to move about much,)
—Albert Parsons went to his death singing Annie Laurie; didn’t another have a rose in his coat–