James Stephens

James Stephens

James Stephens (9 February 1880[1] – 26 December 1950) was an Irish novelist and poet.
1,001карма
Поиск
·
#the2 мин. чтения

In The Poppy Field

Mad Patsy said, he said to me,
That every morning he could
An angel walking on the sky;
Across the sunny skies of

00
Подарок
·
#the shell2 мин. чтения

The Shell

ND then I pressed the shell Close to my ear And listened well,
And straightway like a bell Came low and clear The slow, sad murmur of the distant seas,
Whipped by an icy breeze Upon a shore Wind-swept and desolate
It was a sunless s...

00
Подарок
·
#the wind1 мин. чтения

The Wind

The wind stood up and gave a shout
He whistled on his fingers and Kicked the withered leaves about And thumped the branches with his hand And said that he'd kill and kill,
And so he will and so he will

00
Подарок
·
#insurrections2 мин. чтения

Insurrections

I saw God
Do you doubt it
Do you dare to doubt it
I saw the Almighty Man

00
Подарок
·
#the2 мин. чтения

The Fifteen Acres

II cling and
On a branch, or
Through the cool, clear hush of Morning,
O

00
Подарок
·
#righteous anger2 мин. чтения

Righteous Anger

HE lanky hank of a she in the inn over there Nearly killed me for asking the loan of a glass of beer: May the devil grip the whey-faced slut by the hair, And beat bad manners out of her skin for a year
That parboiled imp, with the hardest jaw...

00
Подарок
·
#westland row1 мин. чтения

Westland Row

Every Sunday there's a throng Of pretty girls, who trot along In a pious, breathless state (They are nearly always late) To the Chapel, where they pray For the sins of Saturday
They have frocks of white and blue, Yellow sashes they have too, ...

00
Подарок
·
#the daisies1 мин. чтения

The Daisies

IN
HE scented bud of the morning—O, When the windy grass went rippling far, I saw my dear one walking slow, In the field where the daisies are
We did not laugh and we did not speak As we wandered happily to and fro; I kissed my dear on e...

00
Подарок
·
#the2 мин. чтения

The Goat Paths

The crooked paths go every way Upon the hill — they wind about Through the heather in and out Of the quiet sunniness
And there the goats, day after day, Stray in sunny quietness,
Cropping here and cropping there, As they pause and turn a...

00
Подарок
·
#the4 мин. чтения

The Spring In Ireland 1916

Do not forget my charge I beg of you ;
That of what flow'rs you find of fairest
And sweetest odor you do gather
Are best of all the best — a fragrant rose,

00
Подарок
·
#when1 мин. чтения

When the Leaves Fall

EN the leaves fall off the trees Everybody walks on them :
Once they had a time of ease High above, and every breeze Used to stay and talk to them
Then they were so debonair As they fluttered up and down ;
Dancing in the sunny air,

00
Подарок
·
#the10 мин. чтения

The Lonely God

So Eden was deserted, and at eve Into the quiet place God came to grieve
His face was sad,
His hands hung slackly down Along his robe; too sorrowful to frown He paced along the grassy paths and through The silent trees, and where the flo...

00
Подарок
Показать больше
Ryfma
Ryfma - это социальная сеть для публикации книг, стихов и прозы, для общения писателей и читателей. Публикуй стихи и прозу бесплатно.