Poeticous Logo
fr
English Español Français Italiano
W. B. Yeats

W. B. Yeats

He Tells of a Valley Full of Lovers

I dreamed that I stood in a valley, and amid sighs,
For happy lovers passed two by two where I stood;
And I dreamed my lost love came stealthily out of the wood
With her cloud-pale eyelids falling on dream-dimmed eyes:
I cried in my dream, O women, bid the young men lay
Their heads on your knees, and drown their eyes with your fair,
Or remembering hers they will find no other face fair
Till all the valleys of the world have been withered away.

#1899 #IrishWriters #TheWindAmongTheReeds

Autres oeuvres par W. B. Yeats...
A Man Young and Old: I. First Love

Though nurtured like the sailing m… In beauty’s murderous brood, She walked awhile and blushed awhi… And on my pathway stood Until I thought her body bore
The Double Vision of Michael Robartes

ON the grey rock of Cashel the mi… Has called up the cold spirits tha… When the old moon is vanished from… And the new still hides her horn. Under blank eyes and fingers never…
Those Dancing Days Are Gone

Come, let me sing into your ear; Those dancing days are gone, All that silk and satin gear; Crouch upon a stone, Wrapping that foul body up
 1
Responsibilities - Closing

While I, that reed-throated whisp… Who comes at need, although not no… A clear articulation in the air, But inwardly, surmise companions Beyond the fling of the dull ass’s…
Me Peacock

WHAT’S riches to him That has made a great peacock With the pride of his eye? The wind-beaten, stone-grey, And desolate Three Rock
The Attack on The “Play Boy”

Once, when midnight smote the air, Eunuchs ran through Hell and met On every crowded street to stare Upon great Juan riding by: Even like these to rail and sweat
The Lover Pleads With His Friend for Old Friends

Though you are in your shining day… Voices among the crowd And new friends busy with your pra… Be not unkind or proud, But think about old friends the mo…
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 Travail of Passion

When the flaming lute-thronged ang… When an immortal passion breathes… Our hearts endure the scourge, the… Crowded with bitter faces, the wou… The vinegar-heavy sponge, the flow…
Byzantium

The unpurged images of day recede; The Emperor’s drunken soldiery ar… Night resonance recedes, night-wal… After great cathedral gong; A starlit or a moonlit dome disdai…
The Wild Old Wicked Man

BECAUSE I am mad about women I am mad about the hills,’ Said that wild old wicked man Who travels where God wills. ‘Not to die on the straw at home.
The Lovers, by Pierre-Auguste Renoir
The Mask

“Put off that mask of burning gold With emerald eyes.” “O no, my dear, you make so bold To find if hearts be wild and wise… And yet not cold.”
 7
He Tells of the Perfect Beauty

O cloud-pale eyelids, dream-dimmed… The poets labouring all their days To build a perfect beauty in rhyme Are overthrown by a woman’s gaze And by the unlabouring brood of th…
To Ireland in the Coming Times

KNOW, that I would accounted be True brother of a company That sang, to sweeten Ireland’s w… Ballad and story, rann and song; Nor be I any less of them,
The Lover Speaks to the Hearers of His Songs in Coming Days

O women, kneeling by your altar-ra… When songs I wove for my beloved… And smoke from this dead heart dri… And covers away the smoke of myrrh… Bend down and pray for all that si…



Haut