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W. B. Yeats

W. B. Yeats

The Chambermaid’s First Song

HOW came this ranger
Now sunk in rest,
Stranger with strangcr.
On my cold breast?
What’s left to Sigh for?
Strange night has come;
God’s love has hidden him
Out of all harm,
Pleasure has made him
Weak as a worm.

#Irish #NobelPrize #XIXCentury #XXCentury

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The Old Age of Queen Maeve

A certain poet in outlandish cloth… Gathered a crowd in some Byzantin… Talked1 of his country and its peo… To some stringed instrument none t… A wall behind his back, over his h…
The Pity of Love

A PITY beyond all telling Is hid in the heart of love: The folk who are buying and sellin… The clouds on their journey above, The cold wet winds ever blowing,
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The Green Helmet

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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…
The Fish

Although you hide in the ebb and f… Of the pale tide when the moon has… The people of coming days will kno… About the casting out of my net, And how you have leaped times out…
Reconciliation

Some may have blamed you that you… The verses that could move them on… When, the ears being deafened, the… With lightning, you went from me,… Nothing to make a song about but k…
Crazy Jane Talks With the Bishop

I met the Bishop on the road And much said he and I. ‘Those breasts are flat and fallen… Those veins must soon be dry; Live in a heavenly mansion,
Form the Green Helmet and Other Poems

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At the Abbey Theatre

Dear Craoibhin Aoibhin, look into… When we are high and airy hundreds… That if we hold that flight they’l… While those same hundreds mock ano… Because we have made our art of co…
A Drunken Man’s Praise of Sobriety

COME swish around, my pretty pun… And keep me dancing still That I may stay a sober man Although I drink my fill. Sobriety is a jewel
The Blessed

Cumhal called out, bending his hea… Till Dathi came and stood, With a blink in his eyes, at the c… Between the wind and the wood. And Cumhal said, bending his knee…
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On Being Asked for a War Poem

I THINK it better that in times… A poet’s mouth be silent, for in t… We have no gift to set a statesman… He has had enough of meddling who… A young girl in the indolence of h…
Red Hanrahan's Song About Ireland

THE old brown thorn-trees break i… Under a bitter black wind that blo… Our courage breaks like an old tre… But we have hidden in our hearts t… Of Cathleen, the daughter of Houl…
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Beggar to Beggar Cried

‘TIME to put off the world and g… And find my health again in the se… Beggar to beggar cried, being fren… ‘And make my soul before my pate i… ’And get a comfortable wife and ho…
The Statesman’s Holiday

I LIVED among great houses, Riches drove out rank, Base drove out the better blood, And mind and body shrank. No Oscar ruled the table,



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