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

W. B. Yeats

Old Tom Again

Things out of perfection sail,
And all their swelling canvas wear,
Nor shall the self-begotten fail
Though fantastic men suppose
Building-yard and stormy shore,
Winding-sheet and swaddling - clothes.

#Irish #NobelPrize #XIXCentury #XXCentury

Ti è piaciuta questa lettura? Offriteci un caffè!.
Il tuo aiuto ci permette di esistere.
Altre opere di W. B. Yeats...
The Man and the Echo

Man IN a cleft that’s christened Alt Under broken stone I halt At the bottom of a pit That broad noon has never lit,
 1
He Hears the Cry of the Sedge

I wander by the edge Of this desolate lake Where wind cries in the sedge: Until the axle break That keeps the stars in their roun…
A Bronze Head

HERE at right of the entrance th… Human, superhuman, a bird’s round… Everything else withered and mummy… What great tomb-haunter sweeps the… (Something may linger there though…
The Attack on “The Playboy of the Western World”, 1907

Once, when midnight smote the air, Eunuchs ran through Hell and met From thoroughfare to thoroughfare, While that great Juan galloped by… And like these to rail and sweat
The Cold Heaven

Suddenly I saw the cold and rook-… That seemed as though ice burned a… And thereupon imagination and hear… So wild that every casual thought… Vanished, and left but memories, t…
The Grey Rock

Poets with whom I learned my trad… Companions of the Cheshire Cheese… Here’s an old story I’ve remade, Imagining 'twould better please Your cars than stories now in fash…
 1
Parting

He. Dear, I must be gone While night Shuts the eyes Of the household spies; That song announces dawn. She. No, night’s bird and love’s
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 Old Stone Cross

A STATESMAN is an easy man, He tells his lies by rote; A journalist makes up his lies And takes you by the throat; So stay at home’ and drink your be…
 1
At Algeciras - a Meditaton Upon Death

The heron-billed pale cattle-birds That feed on some foul parasite Of the Moroccan flocks and herds Cross the narrow Straits to light In the rich midnight of the garden…
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,
A Lover’s Quarrel Among the Fairies

A moonlight moor. Fairies lead… Male Fairies: Do not fear us, ear… We will lead you hand in hand By the willows in the glade, By the gorse on the high land,
An Old Woman, by Vilhelm Hammershøi
When You are Old

When you are old and grey and full… And nodding by the fire, take down… And slowly read, and dream of the… Your eyes had once, and of their s… How many loved your moments of gla…
 4
 17
The People

‘WHAT have I earned for all that… ‘For all that I have done at my o… The daily spite of this unmannerly… Where who has served the most is m… The reputation of his lifetime los…
The Ballad of the Foxhunter

‘Lay me in a cushioned chair; Carry me, ye four, With cushions here and cushions th… To see the world once more. ’To stable and to kennel go;



Alto