#Irish #NobelPrize #XIXCentury #XXCentury
A PITY beyond all telling Is hid in the heart of love: The folk who are buying and sellin… The clouds on their journey above, The cold wet winds ever blowing,
‘O cruel Death, give three things… Sang a bone upon the shore; ‘A child found all a child can lac… Whether of pleasure or of rest, Upon the abundance of my breast’:
On Cruachan’s plain slept he That must sing in a rhyme What most could shake his soul: ‘The stallion Eternity Mounted the mare of Time,
The trees are in their autumn beau… The woodland paths are dry, Under the October twilight the wa… Mirrors a still sky; Upon the brimming water among the…
The island dreams under the dawn And great boughs drop tranquillity… The peahens dance on a smooth lawn… A parrot sways upon a tree, Raging at his own image in the ena…
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…
GOD grant a blessing on this towe… And on my heirs, if all remain uns… No table, or chair or stool not si… For shepherd lads in Galilee; and… That I myself for portions of the…
Never give all the heart, for love Will hardly seem worth thinking of To passionate women if it seem Certain, and they never dream That it fades out from kiss to kis…
Cumhal called out, bending his hea… Till Dathi came and stood, With a blink in his eyes, at the c… Between the wind and the wood. And Cumhal said, bending his knee…
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
Be you still, be you still, trembl… Remember the wisdom out of the old… Him who trembles before the flame… And the winds that blow through th… Let the starry winds and the flame…
Behold that great Plotinus swim, Buffeted by such seas; Bland Rhadamanthus beckons him, But the Golden Race looks dim, Salt blood blocks his eyes.
I WOULD be ignorant as the dawn That has looked down On that old queen measuring a town With the pin of a brooch, Or on the withered men that saw
Swayed upon the gaudy stern The butt-end of a steering-oar, And saw wherever I could turn A crown upon the shore. I And though I would have hushed…
I TURN round Like a dumb beast in a show. Neither know what I am Nor where I go, My language beaten