#1910 #IrishWriters #TheGreenHelmetAndOtherPoems
The Heavenly Circuit; Berenice’s… Tent-pole of Eden; the tent’s dra… Symbolical glory of thc earth and… The Father and His angelic hierar… That made the magnitude and glory…
I WOULD that we were, my belove… We tire of the flame of the meteor… And the flame of the blue star of… Has awakened in our hearts, my bel… A weariness comes from those dream…
Edain came out of Midhir’s hill,… Beside young Aengus in his tower… Where time is drowned in odour-lad… And Druid moons, and murmuring of… And sleepy boughs, and boughs wher…
The trees are in their autumn beau… The woodland paths are dry, Under the October twilight the wa… Mirrors a still sky; Upon the brimming water among the…
THE girl goes dancing there On the leaf-sown, new-mown, smooth Grass plot of the garden; Escaped from bitter youth, Escaped out of her crowd,
“Put off that mask of burning gold With emerald eyes.” “O no, my dear, you make so bold To find if hearts be wild and wise… And yet not cold.”
Epilogue to 'A Vision’ Midnight has come, and the great… And may a lesser bell sound throug… And it is All Souls’ Night, And two long glasses brimmed with…
I went out to the hazel wood, Because a fire was in my head, And cut and peeled a hazel wand, And hooked a berry to a thread; And when white moths were on the w…
They hold their public meetings wh… Our most renowned patriots stand, One among the birds of the air, A stumpier on either hand; And all the popular statesmen say
KING EOCHAID came at sundown… Westward of Tara. Hurrying to hi… He had outridden his war-wasted me… That with empounded cattle trod th… And where beech-trees had mixed a…
O curlew, cry no more in the air, Or only to the water in the West; Because your crying brings to my m… passion-dimmed eyes and long heavy… That was shaken out over my breast…
BEING out of heart with governme… I took a broken root to fling Where the proud, wayward squirrel… Taking delight that he could sprin… And he, with that low whinnying so…
TOIL and grow rich, What’s that but to lie With a foul witch And after, drained dry, To be brought
We that have done and thought, That have thought and done, Must ramble, and thin out Like milk spilt on a stone.
Man IN a cleft that’s christened Alt Under broken stone I halt At the bottom of a pit That broad noon has never lit,