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W. B. Yeats

W. B. Yeats

Hanrahan Reproves the Curlew
O, curlew, cry no more in the air,    
Or only to the waters in the West;    
Because your crying brings to my mind    
Passion-dimmed eyes and long heavy hair    
That was shaken out over my breast:      
There is enough evil in the crying of wind.

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Other works by W. B. Yeats...
Two Songs From a Play

I saw a staring virgin stand Where holy Dionysus died, And tear the heart out of his side… And lay the heart upon her hand And bear that beating heart away;
In the Seven Woods

I HAVE heard the pigeons of the… Make their faint thunder, and the… Hum in the lime-tree flowers; and… The unavailing outcries and the ol… That empty the heart. I have forg…
Maid Quiet

Where has Maid Quiet gone to, Nodding her russet hood? The winds that awakened the stars Are blowing through my blood. O how could I be so calm
 2
A Man Young and Old: II. Human Dignity

Like the moon her kindness is, If kindness I may call What has no comprehension in’t, But is the same for all As though my sorrow were a scene
 1
Spilt Milk

We that have done and thought, That have thought and done, Must ramble, and thin out Like milk spilt on a stone.
Three Songs to the Same Tune

GRANDFATHER sang it under the… ‘ Hear, gentlemen, ladies, and all… Money is good and a girl might be… But good strong blows are delights… There, standing on the catt,
Coole Park and Ballylee, 1931

Under my window-ledge the waters r… Otters below and moor-hens on the… Run for a mile undimmed in Heaven… Then darkening through 'dark’ Raf… Run underground, rise in a rocky p…
 1
A Prayer on going into my House

GOD grant a blessing on this towe… And on my heirs, if all remain uns… No table, or chair or stool not si… For shepherd lads in Galilee; and… That I myself for portions of the…
 1
The Hero, The Girl, and The Fool

I rage at my own image in the glas… That’s so unlike myself that when… It is as though you praised anothe… Mocked me with praise of my mere o… And when I wake towards morn I dr…
The Song of the Happy Shepherd

The woods of Arcady are dead, And over is their antique joy; Of old the world on dreaming fed; Grey Truth is now her painted toy… Yet still she turns her restless h…
 1
A Cradle Song

The angels are stooping Above your bed; They weary of trooping With the whimpering dead. God’s laughing in Heaven
 1
The Pilgrim

I FASTED for some forty days on… For passing round the bottle with… In country shawl or Paris cloak,… And what’s the good of women, for… Is fol de rol de rolly O.
 2
The Hawk

‘CALL down the hawk from the air… Let him be hooded or caged Till the yellow eye has grown mild… For larder and spit are bare, The old cook enraged,
Parnell

PARNELL came down the road, he… 'Ireland shall get her freedom and…
Statistics

‘Those Platonists are a curse,’ h… ‘God’s fire upon the wane, A diagram hung there instead, More women born than men.’



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