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

W. B. Yeats

Her Anxiety

Earth in beauty dressed
Awaits returning spring.
All true love must die,
Alter at the best
Into some lesser thing.
Prove that I lie.
 
Such body lovers have,
Such exacting breath,
That they touch or sigh.
Every touch they give,
Love is nearer death.
Prove that I lie.

#Irish #NobelPrize

1
1
Enjoyed this read? Treat us to a coffee!.
Your help allows us to exist.
Liked or faved by...
Other works by W. B. Yeats...
The Tower

What shall I do with this absurdi… O heart, O troubled heart—this ca… Decrepit age that has been tied to… As to a dog’s tail? Never had I more
 1
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 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
The Falling of the Leaves

Autumn is over the long leaves tha… And over the mice in the barley sh… Yellow the leaves of the rowan abo… And yellow the wet wild-strawberry… The hour of the waning of love has…
Consolation

O but there is wisdom In what the sages said; But stretch that body for a while And lay down that head Till I have told the sages
The Ghost of Roger Casement

O WHAT has made that sudden nois… What on the threshold stands? It never crossed the sea because John Bull and the sea are friends… But this is not the old sea
 1
Demon and Beast

FOR certain minutes at the least That crafty demon and that loud be… That plague me day and night Ran out of my sight; Though I had long perned in the g…
The Moods

Time drops in decay, Like a candle burnt out, And the mountains and the woods Have their day, have their day; What one in the rout
 1
The Lover’s Song

BIRD sighs for the air, Thought for I know not where, For the womb the seed sighs. Now sinks the same rest On mind, on nest,
Parnell

PARNELL came down the road, he… 'Ireland shall get her freedom and…
Sixteen Dead Men

O BUT we talked at large before The sixteen men were shot, But who can talk of give and take, What should be and what not While those dead men are loitering…
Death of Caesar, by Vincenzo Camuccini
Come let us mock at the great

Come let us mock at the great That had such burdens on the mind And toiled so hard and late To leave some monument behind, Nor thought of the levelling wind.
 17
Ego Dominus Tuus

Hic. ON the grey sand beside the… Under your old wind-beaten tower,… A lamp burns on beside the open bo… That Michael Robartes left, you w… And though you have passed the bes…
He Thinks of His Past Greatness When a Part of the Constellations of Heaven

I have drunk ale from the Country… And weep because I know all thing… I have been a hazel-tree, and they… The Pilot Star and the Crooked P… Among my leaves in times out of mi…
A Man Young and Old: VI. His Memories

We should be hidden from their eye… Being but holy shows And bodies broken like a thorn Whereon the bleak north blows, To think of buried Hector



Top