In the Womb
STILL rests the heavy share on the dark soil: Upon the black mould thick the dew-damp lies: The horse waits patient: from his lowly toil The ploughboy to the morning lifts his eyes. The
The Gift
I THOUGHT, beloved, to have brought to you A gift of quietness and ease and peace, Cooling your brow as with the mystic dew Dropping from twilight trees. Homeward I go not yet; the
On Behalf of Some Irishmen not Followers of Tradition
THEY call us aliens, we are told, Because our wayward visions stray From that dim banner they unfold, The dreams of worn-out yesterday. The sum of all the past is theirs, The creeds, the
Duality
WHO gave thee such a ruby flaming heart And such a pure cold spirit? Side by side I know these must eternally abide In intimate war, and each to each impart Life from its
A Vision of Beauty
WHERE we sat at dawn together, while the star-rich heavens shifted, We were weaving dreams in silence, suddenly the veil was lifted. By a hand of fire awakened, in a moment caught and led
Childhood
HOW I could see through and through you! So unconscious, tender, kind, More than ever was known to you Of the pure ways of your mind. We who long to rest from strife Labour
Unity
ONE thing in all things have I seen: One thought has haunted earth and air: Clangour and silence both have been Its palace chambers. Everywhere I saw the mystic vision flow And live in
Creation
AS one by one the veils took flight, The day withdrew, the stars came up. The spirit issued pale and bright Filling thy beauty like a cup. Sacred thy laughter on the air, Holy
Fantasy
OVER all the dream-built margin, flushed with grey and hoary light, Glint the bubble planets tossing in the dead black sea of night. Immemorial face, how many faces look from out thy skies, Now
Age and Youth
WE have left our youth behind: Earth is in its baby years: Void of wisdom cries the wind, And the sunlight knows no tears. When shall twilight feel the awe, All the rapt thought
Epigram
OH, be not led away, Lured by the colour of the sun-rich day. The gay romance of song Unto the spirit life doth not belong: Though far-between the hours In which the Master of
Forgiveness
AT dusk the window panes grew grey; The wet world vanished in the gloom; The dim and silver end of day Scarce glimmered through the little room. And all my sins were told; I
In As Much
WHEN for love it was fain of The wild heart was chidden, When the white limbs were clothed And the beauty was hidden; For the scorn that was done to The least of her
A Leader
THOUGH your eyes with tears were blind, Pain upon the path you trod: Well we knew, the hosts behind, Voice and shining of a god. For your darkness was our day: Signal fires, your
Glory and Shadow
SHADOWWHO art thou, O Glory, In flame from the deep Where stars chant their story; Why trouble my sleep? I hardly had rested; My dreams wither now. Why comest thou crested And gemmed on