#IrishWriters
“Love is all Unsatisfied That cannot take the whole Body and soul”; And that is what Jane said.
The deck of an ancient ship. At the right of the stage is the mast, with a large square sail hiding a great deal of the sky and sea on that side. The tiller is at the left of the stag...
A DOLL in the doll-maker’s house Looks at the cradle and bawls: ‘That is an insult to us.’ But the oldest of all the dolls, Who had seen, being kept for show,
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…
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…
Sung by the people of Faery ov… We who are old, old and gay, O so old! Thousands of years, thousands of y… If all were told:
The Powers whose name and shape n… Have pulled the Immortal Rose; And though the Seven Lights bowed… The Polar Dragon slept, His heavy rings uncoiled from glim…
Bring me to the blasted oak That I, midnight upon the stroke, (All find safety in the tomb.) May call down curses on his head Because of my dear Jack that’s de…
That is no country for old men. T… In one another’s arms, birds in th… —Those dying generations—at their… The salmon—falls, the mackerel—cro… Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all…
I will arise and go now, and go to… And a small cabin build there, of… Nine bean-rows will I have there,… And live alone in the bee-loud gla… And I shall have some peace there…
As I came over Windy Gap They threw a halfpenny into my cap… For I am running to paradise; And all that I need do is to wish And somebody puts his hand in the…
We sat under an old thorn-tree And talked away the night, Told all that had been said or don… Since first we saw the light, And when we talked of growing up
We that have done and thought, That have thought and done, Must ramble, and thin out Like milk spilt on a stone.
THREE old hermits took the air By a cold and desolate sea, First was muttering a prayer, Second rummaged for a flea; On a windy stone, the third,
THE GYRES! the gyres! Old Roc… Things thought too long can be no… For beauty dies of beauty, worth o… And ancient lineaments are blotted… Irrational streams of blood are st…