#Irish #NobelPrize #1910 #TheGreenHelmetAndOtherPoems
I found that ivory image there Dancing with her chosen youth, But when he wound her coal-black h… As though to strangle her, no scre… Or bodily movement did I dare,
SELECTED FROM THE IR… THERE was a green branch hung wi… When her own people ruled this tra… And from its murmuring greenness,… A Druid kindness, on all hearers…
THAT civilisation may not sink, Its great battle lost, Quiet the dog, tether the pony To a distant post; Our master Caesar is in the tent
Sung by the people of Faery ov… We who are old, old and gay, O so old! Thousands of years, thousands of y… If all were told:
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…
GOD guard me from those thoughts… In the mind alone; He that sings a lasting song Thinks in a marrow-bone; From all that makes a wise old man
STRETCH towards the moonless mi… As though that hand could reach to… And they but famous old upholsteri… Delightful to the touch; tighten t… As though to draw them closer yet.
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
A SPECKLED cat and a tame hare Eat at my hearthstone And sleep there; And both look up to me alone For learning and defence
IF Michael, leader of God’s host When Heaven and Hell are met, Looked down on you from Heaven’s… He would his deeds forget. Brooding no more upon God’s wars
SHE might, so noble from head To great shapely knees, The long flowing line, Have walked to the altar Through the holy images
Fergus. This whole day have I fol… And you have changed and flowed fr… First as a raven on whose ancient… Scarcely a feather lingered, then… A weasel moving on from stone to s…
I asked if i should pray. But the Brahmin said, ‘pray for nothing, say Every night in bed, ’I have been a king,
THE dews drop slowly and dreams g… Suddenly hurtle before my dream-aw… And then the clash of fallen horse… Of unknown perishing armies beat a… We who still labour by the cromlec…
We should be hidden from their eye… Being but holy shows And bodies broken like a thorn Whereon the bleak north blows, To think of buried Hector