#IrishWriters
While I wrought out these fitful… My heart would brim with dreams ab… When we bent down above the fading… And talked of the dark folk who li… Of passionate men, like bats in th…
All things uncomely and broken, All things worn-out and old, The cry of a child by the roadway, The creak of a lumbering cart, The heavy steps of the ploughman,
BELOVED, gaze in thine own hear… The holy tree is growing there; From joy the holy branches start, And all the trembling flowers they… The changing colours of its fruit
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
ALL the heavy days are over; Leave the body’s coloured pride Underneath the grass and clover, With the feet laid side by side. One with her are mirth and duty;
FASTEN your hair with a golden… 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
ALL the heavy days are over; Leave the body’s coloured pride Underneath the grass and clover, With the feet laid side by side. Bathed in flaming founts of duty
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…
All things uncomely and broken, al… The cry of a child by the roadway,… The heavy steps of the ploughman,… Are wronging your image that bloss… The wrong of unshapely things is a…
ON the grey rock of Cashel the mi… Has called up the cold spirits tha… When the old moon is vanished from… And the new still hides her horn. Under blank eyes and fingers never…
I sought a theme and sought for it… I sought it daily for six weeks or… Maybe at last, being but a broken… I must be satisfied with my heart,… Winter and summer till old age beg…
DANCE there upon the shore; What need have you to care For wind or water’s roar? And tumble out your hair That the salt drops have wet;
The angels are stooping Above your bed; They weary of trooping With the whimpering dead. God’s laughing in Heaven
‘WHAT have I earned for all that… ‘For all that I have done at my o… The daily spite of this unmannerly… Where who has served the most is m… The reputation of his lifetime los…
There was a man whom Sorrow named… And he, of his high comrade Sorro… Went walking with slow steps along… And humming Sands, where windy su… And he called loudly to the stars…