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W. B. Yeats

W. B. Yeats

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 fleas?

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

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Otras obras de W. B. Yeats...
The Lady’s Third Song

WHEN you and my true lover meet And he plays tunes between your feet. Speak no evil of the soul, Nor think that body is the whole, For I that am his daylight lady

Owen Aherne and His Dancers

A strange thing surely that my heart whe… Upon the Norman upland or in that popla… Should find no burden but itself and yet… It could not bear that burden and theref… The south wind brought it longing, and t…

#1928 #TheTower

To Some I Have Talked With by the Fire

While I wrought out these fitful Danaan… My heart would brim with dreams about th… When we bent down above the fading coals And talked of the dark folk who live in… Of passionate men, like bats in the dead…

 3
Her Dream

I dreamed as in my bed I lay, All night’s fathomless wisdom come, That I had shorn my locks away And laid them on Love’s lettered tomb: But something bore them out of sight

 1
The Ballad of the Foxhunter

‘Lay me in a cushioned chair; Carry me, ye four, With cushions here and cushions there, To see the world once more. ’To stable and to kennel go;

#1889 #TheWanderingsOfOisinAndOtherPoems

The Gyres

THE GYRES! the gyres! Old Rocky Fac… Things thought too long can be no longer… For beauty dies of beauty, worth of wort… And ancient lineaments are blotted out. Irrational streams of blood are staining…

The Shadowy Waters: The Shadowy Waters

A Dramatic Poem The deck of an ancient ship. At the ri… with a large square sail hiding a great… on that side. The tiller is at the left… coming through an opening in the bulwark…

After Long Silence

Speech after long silence; it is right, All other lovers being estranged or dead… Unfriendly lamplight hid under its shade… The curtains drawn upon unfriendly night… That we descant and yet again descant

 3
The Rose in the Deeps of His Heart

All things uncomely and broken, All things worn-out and old, The cry of a child by the roadway, The creak of a lumbering cart, The heavy steps of the ploughman,

John Kinsella’s Lament for Mr. Mary Moore

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

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 head

Hanrahan Reproves the Curlew

O, curlew, cry no more in the air, Or only to the waters in the West; Because your crying brings to my mind Passion-dimmed eyes and long heavy hair That was shaken out over my breast:

The Lover Mourns for the Loss of Love

Pale brows, still hands and dim hair, I had a beautiful friend And dreamed that the old despair Would end in love in the end: She looked in my heart one day

#1899 #TheWindAmongTheReeds

 1
Old Memory

O THOUGHT, fly to her when the end o… Awakens an old memory, and say, ‘Your strength, that is so lofty and fie… It might call up a new age, calling to m… The queens that were imagined long ago,

Oil and Blood

In tombs of gold and lapis lazuli Bodies of holy men and women exude Miraculous oil, odour of violet. But under heavy loads of trampled clay Lie bodies of the vampires full of blood…

#1933 #TheWindingStairAndOtherPoems




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