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W. B. Yeats

W. B. Yeats

The Lover Speaks to the Hearers of His Songs in Coming Days

O women, kneeling by your altar-rails long hence,
When songs I wove for my beloved hide the prayer,
And smoke from this dead heart drifts through the violet air
And covers away the smoke of myrrh and frankincense;
Bend down and pray for all that sin I wove in song,
Till the Attorney for Lost Souls cry her sweet cry,
And.call to my beloved and me:  ‘No longer fly
Amid the hovering, piteouS, penitential throng.’

#1899 #IrishWriters #TheWindAmongTheReeds

Other works by W. B. Yeats...
A Man Young and Old

First Love THOUGH nurtured like the sailin… In beauty’s murderous brood, She walked awhile and blushed awhi… And on my pathway stood
The Lover’s Song

BIRD sighs for the air, Thought for I know not where, For the womb the seed sighs. Now sinks the same rest On mind, on nest,
A 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,
Jeremiah Lamenting the Destruction of Jerusalem, by Rembrandt
The Coming of Wisdom With Time

Though leaves are many, the root i… Through all the lying days of my y… I swayed my leaves and flowers in… Now I may wither into the truth.
 5
John Kinsella’s Lament for Mr. Mary Moore

A BLOODY and a sudden end, Gunshot or a noose, For Death who takes what man woul… Leaves what man would lose. He might have had my sister,
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,
 1
The Spur

YOU think it horrible that lust a… Should dance attention upon my old… They were not such a plague when… What else have I to spur me into…
Crazy Jane and Jack the Journeyman

I know, although when looks meet I tremble to the bone, The more I leave the door unlatch… The sooner love is gone, For love is but a skein unwound
On a Political Prisoner

SHE that but little patience knew… From childhood on, had now so much A grey gull lost its fear and flew Down to her cell and there alit, And there endured her fingers’ tou…
 1
The Ballad of Moll Magee

Come round me, little childer; There, don’t fling stones at me Because I mutter as I go; But pity Moll Magee. My man was a poor fisher
A Man Young and Old: I. First Love

Though nurtured like the sailing m… In beauty’s murderous brood, She walked awhile and blushed awhi… And on my pathway stood Until I thought her body bore
To the Rose upon the Rood of Time

Red Rose, proud Rose, sad Rose o… Come near me, while I sing the an… Cuchulain battling with the bitter… The Druid, grey, wood-nurtured, q… Who cast round Fergus dreams, and…
 1
He Thinks of His Past Greatness When a Part of the Constellations of Heaven

I have drunk ale from the Country… And weep because I know all thing… I have been a hazel-tree, and they… The Pilot Star and the Crooked P… Among my leaves in times out of mi…
Ego Dominus Tuus

Hic. ON the grey sand beside the… Under your old wind-beaten tower,… A lamp burns on beside the open bo… That Michael Robartes left, you w… And though you have passed the bes…
Easter 1916

I have met them at close of day Coming with vivid faces From counter or desk among grey Eighteenth-century houses. I have passed with a nod of the he…
 1



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