The Wild Swans at Coole. 1919.
#Irish #NobelPrize #XIXCentury #XXCentury
Though nurtured like the sailing m… In beauty’s murderous brood, She walked awhile and blushed awhi… And on my pathway stood Until I thought her body bore
I went out alone To sing a song or two, My fancy on a man, And you know who. Another came in sight
The host is riding from Knocknare… And over the grave of Clooth-na-B… Caoilte tossing his burning hair, And Niamh calling Away, come away… Empty your heart of its mortal dre…
‘She will change,’ I cried. ‘Into a withered crone.’ The heart in my side, That so still had lain, In noble rage replied
There where the course is, Delight makes all of the one mind, The riders upon the galloping hors… The crowd that closes in behind: We, too, had good attendance once,
My love, we will go, we will go,… And away in the woods we will scat… And the salmon behold, and the ous… My love, we will hear, I and you,… The calling afar of the doe and th…
Although I can see him still, The freckled man who goes To a grey place on a hill In grey Connemara clothes At dawn to cast his flies,
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…
ONCE, when midnight smote the ai… Eunuchs ran through Hell and met On every crowded street to stare Upon great Juan riding by: Even like these to rail and sweat
I had this thought awhile ago, ‘My darling cannot understand What I have done, or what would d… In this blind bitter land.’ And I grew weary of the sun
HERE at right of the entrance th… Human, superhuman, a bird’s round… Everything else withered and mummy… What great tomb-haunter sweeps the… (Something may linger there though…
‘THOUGH logic choppers rule the… And every man and maid and boy Has marked a distant object down, An aimless joy is a pure joy,’ Or so did Tom O’Roughley say
HANDS, do what you’re bid; Bring the balloon of the mind That bellies and drags in the wind Into its narrow shed.
THERE is grey in your hair. Young men no longer suddenly catch… When you are passing; But maybe some old gaffer mutters… Because it was your prayer
Who will go drive with Fergus now… And pierce the deep wood’s woven s… And dance upon the level shore? Young man, lift up your russet bro… And lift your tender eyelids, maid…