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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

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The Witch

TOIL and grow rich, What’s that but to lie With a foul witch And after, drained dry, To be brought
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…
Broken Dreams

THERE is grey in your hair. Young men no longer suddenly catch… When you are passing; But maybe some old gaffer mutters… Because it was your prayer
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The Grey Rock

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Alternative Song for the Severd Head in “The King of the Great Clock Tower”

SADDLE and ride, I heard a man… Out of Ben Bulben and Knocknarea… i{What says the Clock in the Grea… All those tragic characters ride But turn from Rosses’ crawling ti…
The Circus Animals’ Desertion

I sought a theme and sought for it… I sought it daily for six weeks or… Maybe at last, being but a broken… I must be satisfied with my heart,… Winter and summer till old age beg…
A Coat

I MADE my song a coat Covered with embroideries Out of old mythologies From heel to throat; But the fools caught it,
Crazy Jane Reproved

I care not what the sailors say: All those dreadful thunder-stones, All that storm that blots the day Can but show that Heaven yawns; Great Europa played the fool
The Secret Rose

Far-Off, most secret, and inviola… Enfold me in my hour of hours; whe… Who sought thee in the Holy Sepul… Or in the wine-vat, dwell beyond t… And tumult of defeated dreams; and…
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To a Squirrel at Kyle-Na-No

Come play with me; Why should you run Through the shaking tree As though I’d a gun To strike you dead?
The Sad Shepherd

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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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Overcome—O bitter sweetness, Inhabitant of the soft cheek of a… The rich man and his affairs, The fat flocks and the fields’ fat… Mariners, rough harvesters;
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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,
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Drinking Song

Wine comes in at the mouth And love comes in at the eye; That’s all we shall know for truth Before we grow old and die. I lift the glass to my mouth,



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