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Jeremiah Lamenting the Destruction of Jerusalem, by Rembrandt
W. B. Yeats

W. B. Yeats

The Coming of Wisdom With Time

Though leaves are many, the root is one;
Through all the lying days of my youth
I swayed my leaves and flowers in the sun;
Now I may wither into the truth.

#Irish #NobelPrize #XIXCentury #XXCentury #1910 #TheGreenHelmetAndOtherPoems

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Autres oeuvres par W. B. Yeats...
Remorse for Intemperate Speech

I ranted to the knave and fool, But outgrew that school, Would transform the part, Fit audience found, but cannot rule My fanatic heart.

#1933 #TheWindingStairAndOtherPoems

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Never give all the heart

Never give all the heart, for love Will hardly seem worth thinking of To passionate women if it seem Certain, and they never dream That it fades out from kiss to kiss;

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The Hosting of the Sidhe

The host is riding from Knocknarea And over the grave of Clooth-na-Bare; Caoilte tossing his burning hair, And Niamh calling Away, come away: Empty your heart of its mortal dream.

#1899 #TheWindAmongTheReeds

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Red Hanrahan’s Song About Ireland

THE old brown thorn-trees break in two… Under a bitter black wind that blows fro… Our courage breaks like an old tree in a… But we have hidden in our hearts the fla… Of Cathleen, the daughter of Houlihan.

The Ballad of Father Gilligan

The old priest Peter Gilligan Was weary night and day For half his flock were in their beds Or under green sods lay. Once, while he nodded in a chair

September

WHAT need you, being come to sense, But fumble in a greasy till And add the halfpence to the pence And prayer to shivering prayer, until You have dried the marrow from the bone?

Lines Written in Dejection

WHEN have I last looked on The round green eyes and the long waveri… Of the dark leopards of the moon? All the wild witches, those most notable… For all their broom-sticks and their tea…

Sailing to Byzantium

That is no country for old men. The you… In one another’s arms, birds in the tree… —Those dying generations—at their song, The salmon—falls, the mackerel—crowded s… Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer…

#1928 #TheTower

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Demon and Beast

FOR certain minutes at the least That crafty demon and that loud beast That plague me day and night Ran out of my sight; Though I had long perned in the gyre,

The Curse of Cromwell

YOU ask what—I have found, and far and… Nothing but Cromwell’s house and Cromwe… The lovers and the dancers are beaten in… And the tall men and the swordsmen and t… And there is an old beggar wandering in…

Red Hanrahan’s Song About Ireland

THE old brown thorn-trees break in two… Under a bitter black wind that blows fro… Our courage breaks like an old tree in a… But we have hidden in our hearts the fla… Of Cathleen, the daughter of Houlihan.

To a Poet, Who Would Have Me Praise Certain Bad Poets, Imitators of His and Mine

You say, as I have often given tongue In praise of what another’s said or sung… ’Twere politic to do the like by these; But was there ever dog that praised his…

#1910 #TheGreenHelmetAndOtherPoems

When Loie Fuller's Chinese dancers enwound

When Loie Fuller’s Chinese dancers enw… A shining web, a floating ribbon of clot… It seemed that a dragon of air Had fallen among dancers, had whirled th… Or hurried them off on its own furious p…

The Pilgrim

I FASTED for some forty days on bread… For passing round the bottle with girls… In country shawl or Paris cloak, had pu… And what’s the good of women, for all th… Is fol de rol de rolly O.

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At Algeciras

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 trees




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