Press "Enter" to skip to content

The Seven Sages

suprusr 0

The First. My great-grandfather spoke to Edmund BurkeIn Grattan’s house.The Second. My great-grandfather sharedA pot-house bench with Oliver Goldsmith once.The Third. My great-grandfather’s father talked of music,Drank tar-water with the…

A Poet to His Beloved

suprusr 0

I BRING you with reverent handsThe books of my numberless dreams,White woman that passion has wornAs the tide wears the dove-grey sands,And with heart more old than the hornThat is…

To A Child Dancing In The Wind

suprusr 0

DANCE there upon the shore;What need have you to careFor wind or water’s roar?And tumble out your hairThat the salt drops have wet;Being young you have not knownThe fool’s triumph,…

A Thought From Propertius

suprusr 0

SHE might, so noble from headTo great shapely kneesThe long flowing line,Have walked to the altarThrough the holy imagesAt pallas Athene’s Side,Or been fit spoil for a centaurDrunk with the…

On Woman

suprusr 0

MAY God be praised for womanThat gives up all her mind,A man may find in no manA friendship of her kindThat covers all he has broughtAs with her flesh and…

The Dawn

suprusr 0

I WOULD be ignorant as the dawnThat has looked downOn that old queen measuring a townWith the pin of a brooch,Or on the withered men that sawFrom their pedantic BabylonThe…

A Man Young And Old: X. His Wildness

suprusr 0

O bid me mount and sail up thereAmid the cloudy wrack,For peg and Meg and Paris’ loveThat had so straight a back,Are gone away, and some that stayHave changed their…

A Prayer For My Son

suprusr 0

BID a strong ghost stand at the headThat my Michael may sleep sound,Nor cry, nor turn in the bedTill his morning meal come round;And may departing twilight keepAll dread afar…

The Shadowy Waters: The Harp of Aengus

suprusr 0

Edain came out of Midhir’s hill, and layBeside young Aengus in his tower of glass,Where time is drowned in odour-laden windsAnd Druid moons, and murmuring of boughs,And sleepy boughs, and…

Tom O’Roughley

suprusr 0

“THOUGH logic-choppers rule the town,And every man and maid and boyHas marked a distant object down,An aimless joy is a pure joy,’Or so did Tom O’Roughley sayThat saw the surges…