#1933 #IrishWriters #TheWindingStairAndOtherPoems
Three Voices [together]. Hurry to… The mouths that speak, the notes a… O masters of the glittering town! O! lay the shrilly trumpet down, Though drunken with the flags that…
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…
HIS DREAM I SWAYED upon the gaudy stem The butt-end of a steering-oar, And saw wherever I could turn A crowd upon a shore.
SHE might, so noble from head To great shapely knees, The long flowing line, Have walked to the altar Through the holy images
Ah, that Time could touch a form That could show what Homer’s age Bred to be a hero’s wage. ‘Were not all her life but storm, Would not painters paint a form
I walked among the seven woods of… Shan-walla, where a willow-hordere… Gathers the wild duck from the win… Shady Kyle-dortha; sunnier Kyle-n… Where many hundred squirrels are a…
ALL the words that I utter, And all the words that I write, Must spread out their wings untiri… And never rest in their flight, Till they come where your sad, sad…
I dreamed that I stood in a valle… For happy lovers passed two by two… And I dreamed my lost love came s… With her cloud-pale eyelids fallin… I cried in my dream ‘O women bid…
O curlew, cry no more in the air, Or only to the water in the West; Because your crying brings to my m… passion-dimmed eyes and long heavy… That was shaken out over my breast…
AROUND me the images of thirty… An ambush; pilgrims at the water-s… Casement upon trial, half hidden b… Guarded; Griffith staring in hyst… Kevin O’Higgins’ countenance that…
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
In tombs of gold and lapis lazuli Bodies of holy men and women exude Miraculous oil, odour of violet. But under heavy loads of trampled… Lie bodies of the vampires full of…
Shy one, shy one, Shy one of my heart, She moves in the firelight Pensively apart. She carries in the dishes,
Epilogue to 'A Vision’ Midnight has come, and the great… And may a lesser bell sound throug… And it is All Souls’ Night, And two long glasses brimmed with…
SING of the O’Rahilly, Do not deny his right; Sing a 'the’ before his name; Allow that he, despite All those learned historians,