R.E. Butler Quotes
I have mummy truths to tell Whereat the living mock, Though not for sober ear, For maybe all that hear Should laugh and weep an hour upon the clock.
A living man is blind and drinks his drop. What matter if the ditches are impure? What matter if I live it all once more?
Nor bird nor beast Could make me wish for anything this day, Being old, but that the old alone might die, And that would be against God's Providence.
I know of the leafy paths that the witches take Who come with their crowns of pearl and their spindles of wool, And their secret smile, out of the depths of the lake.
The friends that have it I do wrong Whenever I remake a song, Should know what issue is at stake: It is myself that I remake.
Being young you have not known The fool's triumph, nor yet Love lost as soon as won, Nor the best labourer dead And all the sheaves to bind.
O sweet everlasting Voices, be still; Go to the guards of the heavenly fold And bid them wander obeying your will, Flame under flame, till Time be no more.
I long for truth, and yet I cannot stay from that My better self disowns, For a man's attention Brings such satisfaction To the craving in my bones.
Great Powers of falling wave and wind and windy fire, With your harmonious choir Encircle her I love and sing her into peace, That my old care may cease.
When I clamber to the heights of sleep, Or when I grow excited with wine, suddenly I meet your face.
I have nothing more to give you than my heart. Spanish saying Hearts are not to be had as a gift hearts are to be earned.
Somewhere beyond the curtain Of distorting days Lives that lonely thing That shone before these eyes Targeted, trod like Spring.
It's certain there are trout somewhere - And maybe I shall take a trout - but I do not seem to care.
O heart, we are old; The living beauty is for younger men: We cannot pay its tribute of wild tears.
Lionel Johnson comes the first to mind, That loved his learning better than mankind, Though courteous to the worst; much falling he Brooded upon sanctity.
Do you not hear me calling, white deer with no horns? I have been changed to a hound with one red ear; I have been in the Path of Stones and the Wood of Thorns.
We had fed the heart on fantasies, The heart's grown brutal from the fare, More substance in our enmities Than in our love
For men were born to pray and save: Romantic Ireland's dead and gone, It's with O'Leary in the grave.
If there's no hatred in a mind Assault and battery of the wind Can never tear the linnet from the leaf
But bear in mind your lover's wage Is what your looking-glass can show, And that he will turn green with rage At all that is not pictured there.
You think it horrible that lust and rage Should dance attention upon my old age; They were not such a plague when I was young; What else have I to spur me into song?
The brawling of a sparrow in the eaves The brilliant moon and all the milky sky And all that famous harmony of leaves Had blotted out man's image and his cry.
My chair was nearest to the fire In every company That talked of love or politics, Ere Time transfigured me.
I bear a burden that might well try Men that do all by rule, And what can I That am a wandering-witted fool But pray to God that He ease My great responsibilities?
Sweetheart, do not love too long: I loved long and long, And grew to be out of fashion Like an old song.
Pale brows, still hands and dim hair, I had a beautiful friend And dreamed that the old despair Would end in love in the end.
on the instant clamorous eaves, A climbing moon upon an empty sky, And all that lamentation of the leaves, Could but compose man's image and his cry.
People are responsible for their opinions, but Providence is responsible for their morals.
I am content to live it all again And yet again, if it be life to pitch Into the frog-spawn of a blind man's ditch.
And learn that the best thing is To change my loves while dancing And pay but a kiss for a kiss.