#1933 #IrishWriters #TheWindingStairAndOtherPoems
There was a green branch hung with… When her own people ruled this tra… And from its murmuring greenness,… A Druid kindness, on all hearers… It charmed away the merchant from…
O HURRY where by water among th… The delicate-stepping stag and his… When they have but looked upon the… Would none had ever loved but you… Or have you heard that sliding sil…
O what to me the little room That was brimmed up with prayer an… He bade me out into the gloom, And my breast lies upon his breast… O what to me my mother’s care,
A STATESMAN is an easy man, He tells his lies by rote; A journalist makes up his lies And takes you by the throat; So stay at home’ and drink your be…
The First. My great-grandfather s… In Grattan’s house. The Second. My great-grandfather… A pot-house bench with Oliver Gol… The Third. My great-grandfather’s…
A BLOODY and a sudden end, Gunshot or a noose, For Death who takes what man woul… Leaves what man would lose. He might have had my sister,
HIS chosen comrades thought at sc… He must grow a famous man; He thought the same and lived by r… All his twenties crammed with toil… ‘What then?’ sang Plato’s ghost.…
O’Driscoll drove with a song The wild duck and the drake From the tall and the tufted reeds Of the drear Hart Lake. And he saw how the reeds grew dark
HURRAH for revolution and more… A beggar upon horseback lashes a b… Hurrah for revolution and cannon c… The beggars have changed places, b…
THIS night has been so strange t… As if the hair stood up on my head… From going-down of the sun I have… That women laughing, or timid or w… In rustle of lace or silken stuff,
O sweet everlasting Voices, be st… Go to the guards of the heavenly f… And bid them wander obeying your w… Flame under flame, till Time be n… Have you not heard that our hearts…
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,
ONE had a lovely face, And two or three had charm, But charm and face were in vain Because the mountain grass Cannot but keep the form
Much did I rage when young, Being by the world oppressed, But now with flattering tongue It speeds the parting guest.
WHAT if I bade you leave The cavern of the mind? There’s better exercise In the sunlight and wind. I never bade you go