#1910 #IrishWriters #TheGreenHelmetAndOtherPoems
O but there is wisdom In what the sages said; But stretch that body for a while And lay down that head Till I have told the sages
I sing what was lost and dread wha… I walk in a battle fought over aga… My king a lost king, and lost sold… Feet to the Rising and Setting ma… They always beat on the same small…
I wander by the edge Of this desolate lake Where wind cries in the sedge: Until the axle break That keeps the stars in their roun…
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,
Where, where but here have pride a… That long to give themselves for w… To shake their wicked sides at you… Restraining reckless middle-age?
Pale brows, still hands and dim ha… I had a beautiful friend And dreamed that the old despair Would end in love in the end: She looked in my heart one day
‘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
FOR certain minutes at the least That crafty demon and that loud be… That plague me day and night Ran out of my sight; Though I had long perned in the g…
Hunchback. STAND up and lift yo… A man that finds great bitterness In thinking of his lost renown. A Roman Caesar is held down Under this hump.
I whispered, “I am too young,” And then, “I am old enough”; Wherefore I threw a penny To find out if I might love. “Go and love, go and love, young m…
The jester walked in the garden: The garden had fallen still; He bade his soul rise upward And stand on her window—sill. It rose in a straight blue garment…
We should be hidden from their eye… Being but holy shows And bodies broken like a thorn Whereon the bleak north blows, To think of buried Hector
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?
WHEN all works that have From cradle run to grave From grave to cradle run instead; When thoughts that a fool Has wound upon a spool
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