#1910 #IrishWriters #TheGreenHelmetAndOtherPoems
We that have done and thought, That have thought and done, Must ramble, and thin out Like milk spilt on a stone.
I rage at my own image in the glas… That’s so unlike myself that when… It is as though you praised anothe… Mocked me with praise of my mere o… And when I wake towards morn I dr…
The Heavenly Circuit; Berenice’s… Tent-pole of Eden; the tent’s dra… Symbolical glory of thc earth and… The Father and His angelic hierar… That made the magnitude and glory…
I have pointed out the yelling pac… The hare leap to the wood, And when I pass a compliment Rejoice as lover should At the drooping of an eye,
FOR one throb of the artery, While on that old grey stone I Sa… Under the old wind-broken tree, I knew that One is animate, Mankind inanimate fantasy’.
BECAUSE I am mad about women I am mad about the hills,’ Said that wild old wicked man Who travels where God wills. ‘Not to die on the straw at home.
Much did I rage when young, Being by the world oppressed, But now with flattering tongue It speeds the parting guest.
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…
I THINK it better that in times… A poet’s mouth be silent, for in t… We have no gift to set a statesman… He has had enough of meddling who… A young girl in the indolence of h…
How should the world be luckier if… Where passion and precision have b… Time out of mind, became too ruino… To breed the lidleSs eye that lov… And the sweet laughing eagle thoug…
I care not what the sailors say: All those dreadful thunder-stones, All that storm that blots the day Can but show that Heaven yawns; Great Europa played the fool
SAY that the men of the old black… Though they but feed as the goathe… Their money spent, their wine gone… Lack nothing that a soldier needs, That all are oath-bound men:
Man. In a cleft that’s christened… Under broken stone I halt At the bottom of a pit That broad noon has never lit, And shout a secret to the stone.
A mermaid found a swimming lad, Picked him for her own, Pressed her body to his body, Laughed; and plunging down Forgot in cruel happiness
A BLOODY and a sudden end, Gunshot or a noose, For Death who takes what man woul… Leaves what man would lose. He might have had my sister,