#1899 #IrishWriters #TheWindAmongTheReeds
I HEARD the old, old men say, ‘Everything alters, And one by one we drop away.’ They had hands like claws, and the… Were twisted like the old thorn-tr…
Red Rose, proud Rose, sad Rose o… Come near me, while I sing the an… Cuchulain battling with the bitter… The Druid, grey, wood-nurtured, q… Who cast round Fergus dreams, and…
WAS it the double of my dream The woman that by me lay Dreamed, or did we halve a dream Under the first cold gleam of day? I thought: ‘There is a waterfall
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,
FIVE-AND-TWENTY years have g… Since old William Pollexfen Laid his strong bones down in deat… By his wife Elizabeth In the grey stone tomb he made.
Although I can see him still, The freckled man who goes To a grey place on a hill In grey Connemara clothes At dawn to cast his flies,
THAT civilisation may not sink, Its great battle lost, Quiet the dog, tether the pony To a distant post; Our master Caesar is in the tent
ALL the heavy days are over; Leave the body’s coloured pride Underneath the grass and clover, With the feet laid side by side. Bathed in flaming founts of duty
You say, as I have often given to… In praise of what another’s said o… ’Twere politic to do the like by t… But was there ever dog that praise…
Why should I blame her that she f… With misery, or that she would of… Have taught to ignorant men most v… Or hurled the little streets upon… Had they but courage equal to desi…
Undying love to buy I wrote upon The corners of this eye All wrongs done. What payment were enough
Be you still, be you still, trembl… Remember the wisdom out of the old… Him who trembles before the flame… And the winds that blow through th… Let the starry winds and the flame…
Now, man of croziers, shadows call… And then away, away, like whirling… And now fled by, mist-covered, wit… The youth and lady and the deer an… ‘Gaze no more on the phantoms,’ N…
Although crowds gathered once if s… And even old men’s eyes grew dim,… Like some last courtier at a gypsy… Babbling of fallen majesty, record… The lineaments, a heart that laugh…
A crazy man that found a cup, When all but dead of thirst, Hardly dared to wet his mouth Imagining, moon-accursed, That another mouthful