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W. B. Yeats

W. B. Yeats

The Fool by the Roadside

WHEN all works that have
From cradle run to grave
From grave to cradle run instead;
When thoughts that a fool
Has wound upon a spool
Are but loose thread, are but loose thread;
When cradle and spool are past
And I mere shade at last
Coagulate of stuff
Transparent like the wind,
I think that I may find
A faithful love, a faithful love.

#Irish #NobelPrize #XIXCentury #XXCentury

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Otras obras de 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,

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O cloud-pale eyelids, dream-dimmed eyes, The poets labouring all their days To build a perfect beauty in rhyme Are overthrown by a woman’s gaze And by the unlabouring brood of the skie…

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

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For Anne Gregory

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I CRIED when the moon was mutmuring t… ‘Let peewit call and curlew cry where th… I long for your merry and tender and pit… For the roads are unending, and there is… The honey-pale moon lay low on the sleep…

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O sweet everlasting Voices, be still; Go to the guards of the heavenly fold And bid them wander obeying your will, Flame under flame, till Time be no more… Have you not heard that our hearts are o…

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Where dips the rocky highland Of Sleuth Wood in the lake, There lies a leafy island Where flapping herons wake The drowsy water rats;

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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,

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, And shout a secret to the stone.

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A Meditation in Time of War

FOR one throb of the artery, While on that old grey stone I Sat Under the old wind-broken tree, I knew that One is animate, Mankind inanimate fantasy’.

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He Thinks of Those Who Have Spoken Evil of His Beloved

Half close your eyelids, loosen your hai… And dream about the great and their prid… They have spoken against you everywhere, But weigh this song with the great and t… I made it out of a mouthful of air,

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To Ireland in the Coming Times

KNOW, that I would accounted be True brother of a company That sang, to sweeten Ireland’s wrong, Ballad and story, rann and song; Nor be I any less of them,

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Between extremities Man runs his course; A brand, or flaming breath. Comes to destroy All those antinomies

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The Old Age of Queen Maeve

A certain poet in outlandish clothes Gathered a crowd in some Byzantine lane… Talked1 of his country and its people, s… To some stringed instrument none there h… A wall behind his back, over his head




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