#1933 #IrishWriters #TheWindingStairAndOtherPoems
The Danaan children laugh, in cra… And clap their hands together, and… For they will ride the North when… With heavy whitening wings, and a… I kiss my wailing child and press…
SADDLE and ride, I heard a man… Out of Ben Bulben and Knocknarea… i{What says the Clock in the Grea… All those tragic characters ride But turn from Rosses’ crawling ti…
THAT civilisation may not sink, Its great battle lost, Quiet the dog, tether the pony To a distant post; Our master Caesar is in the tent
You waves, though you dance by my… Though you glow and you glance, th… In the Junes that were warmer tha… When I was a boy with never a cra… The herring are not in the tides a…
IF you have revisited the town, t… Whether to look upon your monument (I wonder if the builder has been… Or happier-thoughted when the day… To drink of that salt breath out o…
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…
O THOUGHT, fly to her when the… Awakens an old memory, and say, ‘Your strength, that is so lofty a… It might call up a new age, callin… The queens that were imagined long…
‘CALL down the hawk from the air… Let him be hooded or caged Till the yellow eye has grown mild… For larder and spit are bare, The old cook enraged,
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
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…
Once more the storm is howling, an… Under this cradle—hood and coverli… My child sleeps on. There is no… But Gregory’s wood and one bare h… Whereby the haystack—and roof—leve…
I TURN round Like a dumb beast in a show. Neither know what I am Nor where I go, My language beaten
Good Father John O’Hart In penal days rode out To a Shoneen who had free lands And his own snipe and trout. In trust took he John’s lands;
Suddenly I saw the cold and rook-… That seemed as though ice burned a… And thereupon imagination and hear… So wild that every casual thought… Vanished, and left but memories, t…
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…