Our freedom as free lancesadvances toward its end;The earth compels, upon itSonnets and birds descend;And soon my friend We shall have no time for dances.
Time was away and somewhere else, / There were two glasses and two chairs / And two people with one pulse.
Why do we like being Irish? Partly because It gives us a hold on the sentimental English As members of a world that never was, Baptized with fairy water
The sunlight on the garden Hardens and grows cold, We cannot cage the minute Within its nets of gold