#1928 #IrishWriters #TheTower
‘THOUGH logic-choppers rule the… And every man and maid and boy Has marked a distant object down, An aimless joy is a pure joy,’ Or so did Tom O’Roughley say
COME swish around, my pretty pun… And keep me dancing still That I may stay a sober man Although I drink my fill. Sobriety is a jewel
The Powers whose name and shape n… Have pulled the Immortal Rose; And though the Seven Lights bowed… The Polar Dragon slept, His heavy rings uncoiled from glim…
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
WOULD I could cast a sail on th… Where many a king has gone And many a king’s daughter, And alight at the comely trees and… The playing upon pipes and the dan…
I will arise and go now, and go to… And a small cabin build there, of… Nine bean-rows will I have there,… And live alone in the bee-loud gla… And I shall have some peace there…
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
WE have cried in our despair That men desert, For some trivial affair Or noisy, insolent sport, Beauty that we have won
ONE had a lovely face, And two or three had charm, But charm and face were in vain Because the mountain grass Cannot but keep the form
I know that I shall meet my fate Somewhere among the clouds above; Those that I fight I do not hate Those that I guard I do not love; My country is Kiltartan Cross,
Good Father John O’Hart In penal days rode out To a Shoneen who had free lands And his own snipe and trout. In trust took he John’s lands;
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.
I went out alone To sing a song or two, My fancy on a man, And you know who. Another came in sight
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…
WHAT’S riches to him That has made a great peacock With the pride of his eye? The wind-beaten, stone-grey, And desolate Three Rock