#1899 #IrishWriters #TheWindAmongTheReeds
THERE is grey in your hair. Young men no longer suddenly catch… When you are passing; But maybe some old gaffer mutters… Because it was your prayer
Hic. ON the grey sand beside the… Under your old wind-beaten tower,… A lamp burns on beside the open bo… That Michael Robartes left, you w… And though you have passed the bes…
Shepherd. That cry’s from the fir… I wished before it ceased. Goatherd. Nor bird n… Could make me wish for anything th… Being old, but that the old alone…
Half close your eyelids, loosen yo… And dream about the great and thei… They have spoken against you every… But weigh this song with the great… I made it out of a mouthful of air…
REMEMBER all those renowned ge… They left their bodies to fatten t… They left their homesteads to fatt… Fled to far countries, or sheltere… In cavern, crevice, or hole,
Things out of perfection sail, And all their swelling canvas wear… Nor shall the self-begotten fail Though fantastic men suppose Building-yard and stormy shore,
A man came slowly from the setting… To Emer, raddling raiment in her… And said, “I am that swineherd wh… Go watch the road between the wood… But now I have no need to watch i…
The heron-billed pale cattle-birds That feed on some foul parasite Of the Moroccan flocks and herds Cross the narrow Straits to light In the rich midnight of the garden…
Between extremities Man runs his course; A brand, or flaming breath. Comes to destroy All those antinomies
Whence did all that fury come? From empty tomb or Virgin womb? Saint Joseph thought the world wo… But liked the way his finger smelt…
When the flaming lute-thronged ang… When an immortal passion breathes… Our hearts endure the scourge, the… Crowded with bitter faces, the wou… The vinegar-heavy sponge, the flow…
Who will go drive with Fergus now… And pierce the deep wood’s woven s… And dance upon the level shore? Young man, lift up your russet bro… And lift your tender eyelids, maid…
WE sat together at one summer’s e… 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…
‘THOUGH logic-choppers rule the… And every man and maid and boy Has marked a distant object down, An aimless joy is a pure joy,’ Or so did Tom O’Roughley say
POUR wine and dance if manhood s… Bring roses if the rose be yet in… The cataract smokes upon the mount… Our Father Rosicross is in his to… Pull down the blinds, bring fiddle…