#Irish #NobelPrize
‘I am of Ireland, And the Holy Land of Ireland, And time runs on,’ cried she. ‘Come out of charity, Come dance with me in Ireland.’
SHE might, so noble from head To great shapely knees The long flowing line, Have walked to the altar Through the holy images
Dear Craoibhin Aoibhin, look into… When we are high and airy hundreds… That if we hold that flight they’l… While those same hundreds mock ano… Because we have made our art of co…
The deck of an ancient ship. At the right of the stage is the mast, with a large square sail hiding a great deal of the sky and sea on that side. The tiller is at the left of the stag...
‘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,
I KNOW that I shall meet my fat… Somewhere among the clouds above; Those that I fight I do not hate, Those that I guard I do not love; My county is Kiltartan Cross,
I THOUGHT of your beauty, and… Made out of a wild thought, is in… There’s no man may look upon her,… As when newly grown to be a woman, Tall and noble but with face and b…
I went out alone To sing a song or two, My fancy on a man, And you know who. Another came in sight
The lot of love is chosen. I lea… Struggling for an image on the tra… Of the whirling Zodiac. Scarce did he my body touch, Scarce sank he from the west
SAY that the men of the old black… Though they but feed as the goathe… Their money spent, their wine gone… Lack nothing that a soldier needs, That all are oath-bound men:
FIVE-AND-TWENTY years have g… Since old William Pollexfen Laid his strong bones down in deat… By his wife Elizabeth In the grey stone tomb he made.
You gave, but will not give again Until enough of paudeen’s pence By Biddy’s halfpennies have lain To be 'some sort of evidence’, Before you’ll put your guineas dow…
What’s riches to him That has made a great peacock With the pride of his eye? The wind-beaten, stone-grey, And desolate Three Rock
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.
On Cruachan’s plain slept he That must sing in a rhyme What most could shake his soul: ‘The stallion Eternity Mounted the mare of Time,