#Irish #NobelPrize #XIXCentury #XXCentury
Fasten your hair with a golden pin… And bind up every wandering tress; I bade my heart build these poor r… It worked at them, day out, day in… Building a sorrowful loveliness
The intellect of man is forced to… perfection of the life, or of the… And if it take the second must ref… A heavenly mansion, raging in the… When all that story’s finished, wh…
PARNELL came down the road, he… 'Ireland shall get her freedom and…
O women, kneeling by your altar-ra… When songs I wove for my beloved… And smoke from this dead heart dri… And covers away the smoke of myrrh… Bend down and pray for all that si…
WAS it the double of my dream The woman that by me lay Dreamed, or did we halve a dream Under the first cold gleam of day? I thought: ‘There is a waterfall
THIS great purple butterfly, In the prison of my hands, Has a learning in his eye Not a poor fool understands. Once he lived a schoolmaster
Hic. ON the grey sand beside the… Under your old wind-beaten tower,… A lamp burns on beside the open bo… That Michael Robartes left, you w… And though you have passed the bes…
A DOLL in the doll-maker’s house Looks at the cradle and bawls: ‘That is an insult to us.’ But the oldest of all the dolls, Who had seen, being kept for show,
Never give all the heart, for love Will hardly seem worth thinking of To passionate women if it seem Certain, and they never dream That it fades out from kiss to kis…
HANDS, do what you’re bid; Bring the balloon of the mind That bellies and drags in the wind Into its narrow shed.
THE old brown thorn-trees break i… Under a bitter black wind that blo… Our courage breaks like an old tre… But we have hidden in our hearts t… Of Cathleen, the daughter of Houl…
I FASTED for some forty days on… For passing round the bottle with… In country shawl or Paris cloak,… And what’s the good of women, for… Is fol de rol de rolly O.
DO not because this day I have gr… Imagine that lost love, inseparabl… Because I have no other youth, ca… For how should I forget the wisdo… The comfort that you made? Althou…
Bid a strong ghost stand at the he… That my Michael may sleep sound, Nor cry, nor turn in the bed Till his morning meal come round; And may departing twilight keep
Beloved, may your sleep be sound That have found it where you fed. What were all the world’s alarms To mighty paris when he found Sleep upon a golden bed
