#IrishWriters
WHAT woman hugs her infant there… Another star has shot an ear. What made the drapery glisten so? Not a man but Delacroix. What made the ceiling waterproof?
Sang old Tom the lunatic That sleeps under the canopy: ‘What change has put my thoughts a… And eyes that had so keen a sight? What has turned to smoking wick
‘What do you make so fair and brig… ‘I make the cloak of Sorrow: O lovely to see in all men’s sight Shall be the cloak of Sorrow, In all men’s sight.’
WHY should not old men be mad? Some have known a likely lad That had a sound fly-fisher’s wris… Turn to a drunken journalist; A girl that knew all Dante once
Bolt and bar the shutter, For the foul winds blow: Our minds are at their best this n… And I seem to know That everything outside us is
Like the moon her kindness is, If kindness I may call What has no comprehension in’t, But is the same for all As though my sorrow were a scene
Endure what life God gives and as… Cease to remember the delights of… Delight becomes death-longing if a… Even from that delight memory trea… Death, despair, division of famili…
I walk through the long schoolroom… A kind old nun in a white hood rep… The children learn to cipher and t… To study reading-books and histori… To cut and sew, be neat in everyth…
How can I, that girl standing the… My attention fix On Roman or on Russian Or on Spanish politics? Yet here’s a travelled man that kn…
Had I the heavens’ embroidered cl… Enwrought with golden and silver l… The blue and the dim and the dark… Of night and light and the half-li… I would spread the cloths under yo…
The light of evening, Lissadell, Great windows open to the south, Two girls in silk kimonos, both Beautiful, one a gazelle. But a raving autumn shears
Her Courtesy WITH the old kindness, the old d… She lies, her lovely piteous head… Propped upon pillows, rouge on the… She would not have us sad because…
I have pointed out the yelling pac… The hare leap to the wood, And when I pass a compliment Rejoice as lover should At the drooping of an eye,
HOW came this ranger Now sunk in rest, Stranger with strangcr. On my cold breast? What’s left to Sigh for?
Violence upon the roads: violence… Some few have handsome riders, are… On delicate sensitive ear or tossi… But wearied running round and roun… All break and vanish, and evil gat…