#1933 #IrishWriters #TheWindingStairAndOtherPoems
LOCKE sank into a swoon; The Garden died; God took the spinning-jenny Out of his side. Where got I that truth?
HOW came this ranger Now sunk in rest, Stranger with strangcr. On my cold breast? What’s left to Sigh for?
I TURN round Like a dumb beast in a show. Neither know what I am Nor where I go, My language beaten
Though leaves are many, the root i… Through all the lying days of my y… I swayed my leaves and flowers in… Now I may wither into the truth.
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
BECAUSE we love bare hills and… And were the last to choose the se… Its boredom of the desk or of the… So many years companioned by a hou… Our voices carry; and though slumb…
My Paistin Finn is my sole desire… And I am shrunken to skin and bon… For all my heart has had for its h… Is what I can whistle alone and a… Oro, oro.!
We who are old, old and gay, O so old! Thousands of years, thousands of y… If all were told: Give to these children, new from t…
PARNELL came down the road, he… 'Ireland shall get her freedom and…
Speech after long silence; it is r… All other lovers being estranged o… Unfriendly lamplight hid under its… The curtains drawn upon unfriendly… That we descant and yet again desc…
Undying love to buy I wrote upon The corners of this eye All wrongs done. What payment were enough
‘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.’
I lived among great houses, Riches drove out rank, Base drove out the better blood, And mind and body shrank. No Oscar ruled the table,
Once, when midnight smote the air, Eunuchs ran through Hell and met On every crowded street to stare Upon great Juan riding by: Even like these to rail and sweat
PICTURE and book remain, An acre of green grass For air and exercise, Now strength of body goes; Midnight, an old house