#1899 #IrishWriters #TheWindAmongTheReeds
Scene: A house made of logs. There are two windows at the back and a door which cuts off one of the corners of the room. Through the door one can see low rocks which make the ground out...
I WOULD that we were, my belove… We tire of the flame of the meteor… And the flame of the blue star of… Has awakened in our hearts, my bel… A weariness comes from those dream…
Where dips the rocky highland Of Sleuth Wood in the lake, There lies a leafy island Where flapping herons wake The drowsy water rats;
I have drunk ale from the Country… And weep because I know all thing… I have been a hazel-tree, and they… The Pilot Star and the Crooked P… Among my leaves in times out of mi…
I rage at my own image in the glas… That’s so unlike myself that when… It is as though you praised anothe… Mocked me with praise of my mere o… And when I wake towards morn I dr…
I bring you with reverent hands The books of my numberless dreams, White woman that passion has worn As the tide wears the dove-grey sa… And with heart more old than the h…
NOW that we’re almost settled in… I’ll name the friends that cannot… Beside a fire of turf in the ancie… And having talked to some late hou… Climb up the narrow winding stair…
SADDLE and ride, I heard a man… Out of Ben Bulben and Knocknarea… i{What says the Clock in the Grea… All those tragic characters ride But turn from Rosses’ crawling ti…
I SAY that Roger Casement Did what he had to do. He died upon the gallows, But that is nothing new. Afraid they might be beaten
I know that I shall meet my fate Somewhere among the clouds above; Those that I fight I do not hate Those that I guard I do not love; My country is Kiltartan Cross,
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…
Blessed be this place, More blessed still this tower; A bloody, arrogant power Rose out of the race Uttering, mastering it,
I admit the briar Entangled in my hair Did not injure me; My blenching and trembling, Nothing but dissembling,
HANDS, do what you’re bid; Bring the balloon of the mind That bellies and drags in the wind Into its narrow shed.
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…