Pressed her body to his body,
Laughed; and plunging down
Forgot in cruel happiness
That even lovers drown.
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Fergus. This whole day have I followed in the rocks,
First as a raven on whose ancient wingsScarcely a feather lingered, then you seemedA weasel moving on from stone to stone,And now at last you wear a human shape,A thin grey man half lost in gathering night.Druid. What would you, king of the proud Red Branch kings?Fergus. This would I Say, most wise of living…
O BUT we talked at large before
But who can talk of give and take,What should be and what notWhile those dead men are loitering thereTo stir the boiling pot?You say that we should still the landTill Germany’s overcome;But who is there to argue thatNow Pearse is deaf and dumb?And is their logic to outweighMacDonagh’s bony thumb?how could you dream they’d listenThat…
‘I am of Ireland,
And time runs on,’ cried she.‘Come out of charity,Come dance with me in Ireland.’One man, one man aloneIn that outlandish gear,One solitary manOf all that rambled thereHad turned his stately head.That is a long way off,And time runs on,’ he said,‘And the night grows rough.’‘I am of Ireland,And the Holy Land of Ireland,And time runs…
THOUGH the great song return no more
The rattle of pebbles on the shoreUnder the receding wave.
SAY that the men of the old black tower,
Their money spent, their wine gone sour,Lack nothing that a soldier needs,That all are oath-bound men:Those banners come not in.There in the tomb stand the dead upright,But winds come up from the shore:They shake when the winds roar,Old bones upon the mountain shake.Those banners come to bribe or threaten,Or whisper that a man’s a foolWho,…
I WANDER by the edge
Where wind cries in the sedge:Until the axle breakThat keeps the stars in their round,And hands hurl in the deepThe banners of East and West,And the girdle of light is unhound,Your breast will not lie by the breastOf your beloved in sleep.