#IrishWriters
WRITTEN TO THE LONDON… ‘Tira autumn sun your shadow’s flu… Upon the field where now your reap… Lo, there! And lo! Your reaper’s… Is on your forehead like a kingly…
A MOUNTAIN SPINNING SONG (A Young Girl sings it) THE Lannan Shee Watched the young man Brian Cross over the stile towards his f…
OTHERS have divers paints and e… Lavish and bright on breast and wi… You, Guatemalan, have sunken all… Into glory of greenness! There may be palms as greenly resp…
WHY do I look for fire to brand… What do I need, when all within i… And lo, she comes, carrying the li… And branding tool—she who is my de… What need have I for what is in h…
THE little moths are creeping Across the cottage pane; On the floor the chickens gather, And they make talk and complain. And she sits by the fire
As I went down through Dublin cit… At the hour of twelve of the night… Who did I see but a Spanish lady Washing her feet by candle light. First she washed them,
I. THE TREES THERE is no glory of the sunset… Heavy the clouds upon the darkenin… And heavy, too, the wind upon the… The trees sway, making moan
ALOOF from his tribe On the elm-tree’s top, A jackdaw perched A hand-reach up. Silent he sat
ABOVE me stand, worn from their… The King’s, the Bishop’s, and the… Quiet as folds upon a grassy knoll… Stark-grey they stand, wall joined… Chapel, and Castle, and Cathedral…
WE mark the playing-time of sun a… Until the rain too heavily upon us Leans, and the sun stamps down upo… And then our trees stand in their… No different from the privets in t…
FOUL-FEATHERED and scald-nec… They sit in evil state; Raw marks upon their breasts As on men’s wearing chains. Impure, though they may plunge
CAN it be that never more Men will grow on Islands? Ithaka and Eriskey, Iceland and Tahiti! Must the engines he has forged
THE birds that soar break space Like heavy bodies hurled! Not so the birds of night They move as in a sphere On which they touch always
You would not slumber If laid at my breast: You would not slumber. The river-flood beats The swan from her nest:
How strangely like a churchyard sk… The thing that’s there amongst the… A Hornets’ nest; but stir the bra… And they’ll be round your head and… So wary ana so weaponed,