Easter, 1916
No, no, not night but death;
The horse that comes from the road.
A horse-hoof slides on the brim,
For England may keep faith
And what if excess of love
Hearts with one purpose alone
Being certain that they and I
Minute by minute they live:
She rode to harriers?
What voice more sweet than hers
Around the fire at the club,
We know their dream; enough
Wherever green is worn,
Coming with v藏书网ivid faces
Transformed utterly:
And hens to moor-cocks call;
The long-legged moor-hens dive,
Bewildered them till they died?
Easter, 1916
He, too, has been changed in his turn,
So daring and sweet his thought.
And a horse plashes within it;
To please a companion
I HAVE met them at close of day
Can make a stone of the heart.
On limbs that had run wild.
In the casual comedy;
This man had kept a school
To some who are near my heart,
A drunken, vainglorious lout.
Through summer and winter seem
To murmur name upon name,
When, young and beautiful,
He might have won fame in the end,
Of a mocking tale or a gibe
A terrible beauty is born.
From cloud to tumbling cloud,
All changed, changed utterly:
And rode our winged horse;
That womans 99lib•netdays were spent
For all that is done and said.
MacDonagh and MacBride
And Connolly and Pearse
I have passed with a nod of the head
A shadow of cloud on the stream
I write it out in a verse -
But lived where motley is worn:
Enchanted to a stone
Was it needless death after all?
So sensitive his nature seemed,
From counter or desk among grey
In ignorant good-will,
And thought before I had do藏书网ne
Yet I number him in the song;
Now and in time to be,
Her nights in argument
Was coming into his force;
The rider, the birds that range
He, too, has resigned his part
This other man I had dreamed
Eighteenth-century houses.
To know they dreamed and are dead;
A terrible beauty is born.
Or polite meaningless words,
To trouble the living stream.
O when may it suffice?
As a mother names her child
Minute by minute they change;
When sleep at last has come
Until her voice grew shrill.
A terrible beauty is born.
This other his helper and friend
Are changed, changed utterly:
Or have lingered awhile and said
That is Heavens part, our part
Too long a sacrifice
Polite meaningless words,
The stones in the midst of all.
What is it but nightfall?
Changes minute by minute;
He had done most bitter wrong