I must recall a man that neither love

But they mistook the brightness of the moon

And had but broken knees for hire

On their hollow top,

And that if memory recur, the suns

And further add to that

All those things whereof

And there sing his last song.

plunge, lured by a softening eye,

Come with loud cry and panting breast

To young upstanding men

Does the imagination dwell the most

O may the moon and sunlight seem

Gifted with so fine an ear;

Or a birds sleepy cry

Whod lived somewhere upon that rocky place,

II

Choose Plato and Plotinus for a friend

Whether in public or in secret rage

When he finished his dogs day:

III

A pack of hounds and not a pack of cards,

Or that of the sudden shower

Or shod in iron, climbed the narrow stairs,

And had the greater joy in praising her,

For I need all his mighty memories.

I choose upstanding men

Hanrahan rose in frenzy there

Cowardice, some silly over-subtle thought

Nor to the tyrants that spat,

Aye, sun and moon and star, all,

Images and memories

Or that of the hour

Through God-forsaken meadows; Mrs. French,

Testy delirium

That nothing strange; the tread.99csw.comragedy began

That under bursting dawn

As to a dogs tail?

Theres not a neighbour left to say

Man makes a superhuman,

For if I triumph I must make men mad.

As at the loophole there

He stumbled, tumbled, fumbled to and fro

And followed up those baying creatures towards -

Poets imaginings

As I would question all, come all who can;

Reckoned up every unforeknown, unseeing

Decrepit age that has been tied to me

From ruin or from ancient trees,

In a learned school

When the swan must fix his eye

And praised the colour of her face,

They may drop a fly;

Remembering that, if walked she there,

To break upon a sleepers rest

Can be content with argument and deal

Being of that metal made

Or dull decrepitude,

I thought it all out twenty years ago:

Slow decay of blood,

One inextricable beam,

Rose from the table and declared it right

With Homer that was a blind man,

I leave both faith and pride

And the proud stones of Greece,

Music had driven their wits astray -

Before that ruin came, for centuries,

Or that of the fabulous horn,

Or by a touch or a sigh,

A figure that has grown so fabulo九_九_藏_書us

So great a glory did the song confer.

That climb the streams until

Never had I more

As I do now against old age?

Drop their cast at the side

Whose images, in the Great Memory stored,

Imagination, nor an ear and eye

That, being dead, we rise,

And drove him drunk or sober through the dawn

When the headlong light is loose,

Or else by toasting her a score of times,

For I would ask a question of them all.

Till the wreck of body,

For it is certain that you have

When they have mounted up,

Memories of the words of women,

Tree, like a sooty finger, starts from the earth;

That more expected the impossible -

Some few remembered still when I was young

From a great labyrinth out of pride,

Out of his bitter soul,

The pride of people that were

Or the humbler worm, I climbed Ben Bulbens back

And certain men, being maddened by those rhymes,

Dream and so create

When the horizon fades;

I pace upon the battlements and stare

With learned Italian things

And when that ancient ruffians turn was on

Who trod upon these rocks or passed this door,

And so warm her wild nest.

Mahｔtps://rｅad•９9cｓｗ.ｃomde lock, stock and barrel

Bound neither to Cause nor to State.

Death and life were not

A sort of battered kettle at the heel.

When all streams are dry,

A peasant girl commended by a Song,

They shall inherit my pride,

The death of friends, or death

For the prosaic light of day -

That made a catch in the breath - .

Or anything called conscience once;

The daws chatter and scream,

Upon a woman won or woman lost?

Nor music nor an enemys clipped ear

Lit up the dark mahogany and the wine.

And certain men-at-arms there were

Now shall I make my soul,

I mock plotinus thought

And cry in platos teeth,

He so bewitched the cards under his thumb

It seems that I must bid the Muse go pack,

I

Rough men-at-arms, cross-gartered to the knees

Ran and with the garden shears

When mocking Muses chose the country wench.

And bring beautys blind rambling celebrant;

O towards I have forgotten what - enough!

If on the lost, admit you turned aside

To test their fancy by their sight;

Yet, now I have considered it, I find

The red man the juggler sent

On the foundations of a house, or where

And had the livelong read.99csw.comsummer day to spend.

And that he changed into a hare.

Come old, necessitous. half-mounted man;

Under eclipse and the day blotted out.

It is time that I wrote my will;

All that you have discovered in the grave,

An ancient bankrupt master of this house.

Good fellows shuffled cards in an old bawn;

Among the deepening shades.

That gave, though free to refuse -

Did all old men and women, rich and poor,

WHAT shall I do with this absurdity -

In abstract things; or be derided by

Old lecher with a love on every wind,

The man drowned in a bogs mire,

Till it was broken by

Caught by an old mans juggleries

No, not in boyhood when with rod and fly,

And drop twigs layer upon layer.

Of dripping stone; I declare

And brought them in a little covered dish.

Last reach of glittering stream

That are impatient to be gone;

Or what worse evil come -

And I myself created Hanrahan

When every silver candlestick or sconce

I have prepared my peace

This sedentary trade.

And one was drowned in the great bog of Cloone.

Beyond that ridge lived Mrs. French, and once

Could, he was so harried, cheer;

That most respected ladys ｒeａd•９9cｓｗ•ｃoｍevery wish,

Climbing the mountain-side,

And I declare my faith:

Strange, but the man who made the song was blind;

That all but the one card became

Upon a fading gleam,

Bring up out of that deep considering mind

The people of Burke and of Grattan

Translunar paradise.

Float out upon a long

Mirror-resembling dream.

From somewhere in the neighbouring cottages.

Under the days declining beam, and call

And Helen has all living hearts betrayed.

Compelling it to study

Until imagination, ear and eye,

Of every brilliant eye

Till man made up the whole,

Seem but the clouds of the sky

A serving-man, that could divine

And horrible splendour of desire;

Go therefore; but leave Hanrahan,

While their great wooden dice beat on the board.

The fountain leap, and at dawn

Clipped an insolent farmers ears

And memories of love,

O heart, O troubled heart - this caricature,

pride, like that of the morn,

And send imagination forth

But I have found an answer in those eyes

Into the labyrinth of anothers being;

The mother bird will rest

Farmers jostled at the fair

Excited, passionate, fantastical

Neither to slaves that were spat on,