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Posts published in “Poems”

The Indian Upon God

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I PASSED along the water’s edge below the humid trees,My spirit rocked in evening light, the rushes round myknees,My spirit rocked in sleep and sighs; and saw the moor-fowl paceAll…

When Helen Lived

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WE have cried in our despairThat men desert,For some trivial affairOr noisy, insolent sport,Beauty that we have wonFrom bitterest hours;Yet we, had we walked withinThose topless towersWhere Helen waked with…

The Lady’s First Song

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I TURN roundLike a dumb beast in a show.Neither know what I amNor where I go,My language beatenInto one name;I am in loveAnd that is my shame.What hurts the soulMy…

Under The Round Tower

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“ALTHOUGH I’d lie lapped up in linenA deal I’d sweat and little earnIf I should live as live the neighbours,’Cried the beggar, Billy Byrne;“Stretch bones till the daylight comeOn great-grandfather’s…

Closing

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While I, that reed-throated whispererWho comes at need, although not now as onceA clear articulation in the air,But inwardly, surmise companionsBeyond the fling of the dull ass’s hoof– Ben Johnson’s…

Meditations In Time Of Civil War

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IAncestral HousesSURELY among a rich man s flowering lawns,Amid the rustle of his planted hills,Life overflows without ambitious pains;And rains down life until the basin spills,And mounts more dizzy high…

Come Gather Round Me, Parnellites

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COME gather round me, Parnellites,And praise our chosen man;Stand upright on your legs awhile,Stand upright while you can,For soon we lie where he is laid,And he is underground;Come fill up…

Tom The Lunatic

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Sang old Tom the lunaticThat sleeps under the canopy:‘What change has put my thoughts astrayAnd eyes that had s-o keen a sight?What has turned to smoking wickNature’s pure unchanging light?…

His Bargain

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Who talks of Plato’s spindle;What set it whirling round?Eternity may dwindle,Time is unwound,Dan and Jerry LoutChange their loves about.However they may take it,Before the thread beganI made, and may not…

On Being Asked for a War Poem

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I think it better that in times like theseA poet keep his mouth shut, for in truthWe have no gift to set a statesman right;He has had enough of meddling…