The Green Helmet and Other Poems

Published by Good Press, 2019

goodpress@okpublishing.info

EAN 4057664653161

Table of Contents

A WOMAN HOMER SUNG

THAT THE NIGHT COME

THE CONSOLATION

FRIENDS

NO SECOND TROY

RECONCILIATION

KING AND NO KING

THE COLD HEAVEN

PEACE

AGAINST UNWORTHY PRAISE

THE FASCINATION OF WHAT’S DIFFICULT

A DRINKING SONG

THE COMING OF WISDOM WITH TIME

ON HEARING THAT THE STUDENTS OF OUR NEW UNIVERSITY HAVE JOINED THE ANCIENT ORDER OF HIBERNIANS AND THE AGITATION AGAINST IMMORAL LITERATURE

TO A POET, WHO WOULD HAVE ME PRAISE CERTAIN BAD POETS, IMITATORS OF HIS AND MINE

THE ATTACK ON THE “PLAY BOY”

A LYRIC FROM AN UNPUBLISHED PLAY

UPON A HOUSE SHAKEN BY THE LAND AGITATION

AT THE ABBEY THEATRE

THESE ARE THE CLOUDS

AT GALWAY RACES

A FRIEND’S ILLNESS

ALL THINGS CAN TEMPT ME

THE YOUNG MAN’S SONG

THE GREEN HELMET

THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY

THE GREEN HELMET

I swayed upon the gaudy stern The butt end of a steering oar, And everywhere that I could turn Men ran upon the shore. And though I would have hushed the crowd There was no mother’s son but said, “What is the figure in a shroud Upon a gaudy bed?” And fishes bubbling to the brim Cried out upon that thing beneath, It had such dignity of limb, By the sweet name of Death. Though I’d my finger on my lip, What could I but take up the song? And fish and crowd and gaudy ship Cried out the whole night long, Crying amid the glittering sea, Naming it with ecstatic breath, Because it had such dignity By the sweet name of Death.

 

A WOMAN HOMER SUNG

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If any man drew near When I was young, I thought, “He holds her dear,” And shook with hate and fear. But oh, ’twas bitter wrong If he could pass her by With an indifferent eye. Whereon I wrote and wrought, And now, being gray, I dream that I have brought To such a pitch my thought That coming time can say, “He shadowed in a glass What thing her body was.” For she had fiery blood When I was young, And trod so sweetly proud As ’twere upon a cloud, A woman Homer sung, That life and letters seem But an heroic dream.

 

THAT THE NIGHT COME

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She lived in storm and strife. Her soul had such desire For what proud death may bring That it could not endure The common good of life, But lived as ’twere a king That packed his marriage day With banneret and pennon, Trumpet and kettledrum, And the outrageous cannon, To bundle Time away That the night come.

 

THE CONSOLATION

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I had this thought awhile ago, “My darling cannot understand What I have done, or what would do In this blind bitter land.” And I grew weary of the sun Until my thoughts cleared up again, Remembering that the best I have done Was done to make it plain; That every year I have cried, “At length My darling understands it all, Because I have come into my strength, And words obey my call.” That had she done so who can say What would have shaken from the sieve? I might have thrown poor words away And been content to live.

 

FRIENDS

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Now must I these three praise— Three women that have wrought What joy is in my days; One that no passing thought, Nor those unpassing cares, No, not in these fifteen Many times troubled years, Could ever come between Heart and delighted heart; And one because her hand Had strength that could unbind