#1899 #IrishWriters #TheWindAmongTheReeds
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…
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…
Much did I rage when young, Being by the world oppressed, But now with flattering tongue It speeds the parting guest.
O HURRY where by water among th… The delicate-stepping stag and his… When they have but looked upon the… Would none had ever loved but you… Or have you heard that sliding sil…
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…
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…
S. Patrick. You who are bent, and… With a heavy heart and a wandering… Have known three centuries, poets… Of dalliance with a demon thing. Oisin. Sad to remember, sick with…
Do you not hear me calling, white… I have been changed to a hound wit… I have been in the Path of Stones… For somebody hid hatred and hope a… Under my feet that they follow you…
I went out alone To sing a song or two, My fancy on a man, And you know who. Another came in sight
I hear the Shadowy Horses, their… Their hoofs heavy with tumult, the… The North unfolds above them clin… The East her hidden joy before th… The West weeps in pale dew and si…
I WOULD be ignorant as the dawn That has looked down On that old queen measuring a town With the pin of a brooch, Or on the withered men that saw
What shall I do with this absurdi… O heart, O troubled heart—this ca… Decrepit age that has been tied to… As to a dog’s tail? Never had I more
A MAN I praise that once in Tar… Said to the woman on his knees, ‘… My hundredth year is at an end.… That something is about to happen,… That the adventure of old age begi…
She lived in storm and strife, Her soul had such desire For what proud death may bring That it could not endure The common good of life,
We that have done and thought, That have thought and done, Must ramble, and thin out Like milk spilt on a stone.