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W. B. Yeats

W. B. Yeats

Her Dream

I dreamed as in my bed I lay,
All night’s fathomless wisdom come,
That I had shorn my locks away
And laid them on Love’s lettered tomb:
But something bore them out of sight
In a great tumult of the air,
And after nailed upon the night
Berenice’s burning hair.

#Irish #NobelPrize #XIXCentury #XXCentury

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If I make the lashes dark And the eyes more bright And the lips more scarlet, Or ask if all be right From mirror after mirror,

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Peace

Ah, that Time could touch a form That could show what Homer’s age Bred to be a hero’s wage. ‘Were not all her life but storm, Would not painters paint a form

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Love’s Loneliness

Old fathers, great-grandfathers, Rise as kindred should. If ever lover’s loneliness Came where you stood, Pray that Heaven protect us

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The Unappeasable Host

The Danaan children laugh, in cradles o… And clap their hands together, and half… For they will ride the North when the g… With heavy whitening wings, and a heart… I kiss my wailing child and press it to…

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Shepherd and Goatheard

Shepherd. That cry’s from the first cuc… I wished before it ceased. Goatherd. Nor bird nor beast Could make me wish for anything this day… Being old, but that the old alone might…

Some moralist or mythological poet

Some moralist or mythological poet Compares the solitary soul to a swan; I am satisfied with that, Satisfied if a troubled mirror show it, Before that brief gleam of its life be g…

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What lively lad most pleasured me Of all that with me lay? I answer that I gave my soul And loved in misery, But had great pleasure with a lad

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Colonel Martin

THE Colonel went out sailing, He spoke with Turk and Jew, With Christian and with Infidel, For all tongues he knew. 'O what’s a wifeless man?' said he,

The Three Hermits

THREE old hermits took the air By a cold and desolate sea, First was muttering a prayer, Second rummaged for a flea; On a windy stone, the third,

The Municipal Gallery Revisited

AROUND me the images of thirty years: An ambush; pilgrims at the water-side; Casement upon trial, half hidden by the… Guarded; Griffith staring in hysterical… Kevin O’Higgins’ countenance that wears

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STRETCH towards the moonless midnight… As though that hand could reach to where… And they but famous old upholsteries Delightful to the touch; tighten that ha… As though to draw them closer yet.

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I sat on cushioned otter-skin: My word was law from Ith to Emain, And shook at Inver Amergin The hearts of the world-troubling seamen… And drove tumult and war away

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The Dedication to a Book of Stories

SELECTED FROM THE IRISH NO… THERE was a green branch hung with man… When her own people ruled this tragic E… And from its murmuring greenness, calm o… A Druid kindness, on all hearers fell.

Long-Legged Fly

That civilisation may not sink, Its great battle lost, Quiet the dog, tether the pony To a distant post; Our master Caesar is in the tent




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