#IrishWriters
HOPE that you may understand! What can books of men that wive In a dragon-guarded land, paintings of the dolphin-drawn Sea-nymphs in their pearly wagons
INDIGNANT at the fumbling wits… Of our old paudeen in his shop, I… Among the stones and thorn-trees,… Until a curlew cried and in the lu… A curlew answered; and suddenly th…
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…
A CURSING rogue with a merry f… A bundle of rags upon a crutch, Stumbled upon that windy place Called Cruachan, and it was as mu… As the one sturdy leg could do
FATHER AND CHILD SHE hears me strike the board and… That she is under ban Of all good men and women, Being mentioned with a man
She lived in storm and strife, Her soul had such desire For what proud death may bring That it could not endure The common good of life,
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
What lively lad most pleasured me Of all that with me lay? I answer that I gave my soul And loved in misery, But had great pleasure with a lad
That is no country for old men. T… In one another’s arms, birds in th… —Those dying generations—at their… The salmon—falls, the mackerel—cro… Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all…
As I came over Windy Gap They threw a halfpenny into my cap… For I am running to paradise; And all that I need do is to wish And somebody puts his hand in the…
I sat on cushioned otter-skin: My word was law from Ith to Emain… And shook at Inver Amergin The hearts of the world-troubling… And drove tumult and war away
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…
WHAT sort of man is coming To lie between your feet? What matter, we are but women. Wash; make your body sweet; I have cupboards of dried fragranc…
I dreamed as in my bed I lay, All night’s fathomless wisdom come… That I had shorn my locks away And laid them on Love’s lettered… But something bore them out of sig…
From pleasure of the bed, Dull as a worm, His rod and its butting head Limp as a worm, His spirit that has fled