#1933 #IrishWriters #TheWindingStairAndOtherPoems
Poets with whom I learned my trad… Companions of the Cheshire Cheese… Here’s an old story I’ve remade, Imagining 'twould better please Your cars than stories now in fash…
NOW all the truth is out, Be secret and take defeat From any brazen throat, For how can you compete, Being honour bred, with one
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
Beloved, may your sleep be sound That have found it where you fed. What were all the world’s alarms To mighty paris when he found Sleep upon a golden bed
The Danaan children laugh, in cra… And clap their hands together, and… For they will ride the North when… With heavy whitening wings, and a… I kiss my wailing child and press…
We sat under an old thorn-tree And talked away the night, Told all that had been said or don… Since first we saw the light, And when we talked of growing up
That is no country for old men. T… In one another’s arms, birds in th… —Those dying generations—at their… The salmon—falls, the mackerel—cro… Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all…
You waves, though you dance by my… Though you glow and you glance, th… In the Junes that were warmer tha… When I was a boy with never a cra… The herring are not in the tides a…
The angels are stooping Above your bed; They weary of trooping With the whimpering dead. God’s laughing in Heaven
‘Lay me in a cushioned chair; Carry me, ye four, With cushions here and cushions th… To see the world once more. ’To stable and to kennel go;
Come round me, little childer; There, don’t fling stones at me Because I mutter as I go; But pity Moll Magee. My man was a poor fisher
We sat together at one summer’s en… That beautiful mild woman, your cl… And you and I, and talked of poet… I said, ‘A line will take us hour… Yet if it does not seem a moment’s…
The jester walked in the garden: The garden had fallen still; He bade his soul rise upward And stand on her window—sill. It rose in a straight blue garment…
She hears me strike the board and… That she is under ban Of all good men and women, Being mentioned with a man That has the worst of all bad name…
A PITY beyond all telling Is hid in the heart of love: The folk who are buying and sellin… The clouds on their journey above, The cold wet winds ever blowing,