She moves in the firelight
pensively apart.
She carries in the dishes,
And lays them in a row.
To an isle in the water
With her would I go.
With catries in the candles,
And lights the curtained room,
Shy in the doorway
And shy in the gloom;
And shy as a rabbit,
Helpful and shy.
To an isle in the water
With her would I fly.
Similar Posts
Like the moon her kindness is,
What has no comprehension in’t,But is the same for allAs though my sorrow were a sceneUpon a painted wall.So like a bit of stone I lieUnder a broken tree.I could recover if I shriekedMy heart’s agonyTo passing bird, but I am dumbFrom human dignity.
MAY God be praised for woman
A man may find in no manA friendship of her kindThat covers all he has broughtAs with her flesh and bone,Nor quarrels with a thoughtBecause it is not her own.Though pedantry denies,It’s plain the Bible meansThat Solomon grew wiseWhile talking with his queens.Yet never could, althoughThey say he counted grass,Count all the praises dueWhen Sheba…
I lived among great houses,
Base drove out the better blood,And mind and body shrank.No Oscar ruled the table,But I’d a troop of friendsThat knowing better talk had goneTalked of odds and ends.Some knew what ailed the worldBut never said a thing,So I have picked a better tradeAnd night and morning sing:Tall dames go walking in grass-green Avalon.Am I a…
‘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…
PARNELL’S FUNERAL
A bundle of tempestuous cloud is blownAbout the sky; where that is clear of cloudBrightness remains; a brighter star shoots down;What shudders run through all that animal blood?What is this sacrifice? Can someone thereRecall the Cretan barb that pierced a star?Rich foliage that the starlight glittered through,A frenzied crowd, and where the branches sprangA beautiful…
I WALK through the long schoolroom questioning;
The children learn to cipher and to sing,To study reading-books and histories,To cut and sew, be neat in everythingIn the best modern way — the children’s eyesIn momentary wonder stare uponA sixty-year-old smiling public man.I dream of a Ledaean body, bentAbove a sinking fire. a tale that sheTold of a harsh reproof, or trivial eventThat…