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W. B. Yeats

W. B. Yeats

He Reproves the Curlew

O curlew, cry no more in the air,
Or only to the water in the West;
Because your crying brings to my mind
passion-dimmed eyes and long heavy hair
That was shaken out over my breast:
There is enough evil in the crying of wind.

#Irish #NobelPrize #XIXCentury #XXCentury #1899 #TheWindAmongTheReeds

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The Black Tower

SAY that the men of the old black… Though they but feed as the goathe… Their money spent, their wine gone… Lack nothing that a soldier needs, That all are oath-bound men:
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A Dialogue of Self and Soul

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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…
Nineteen Hundred and Nineteen

Many ingenious lovely things are g… That seemed sheer miracle to the m… protected from the circle of the m… That pitches common things about.… Amid the ornamental bronze and sto…
These Are the Clouds

These are the clouds about the fal… The majesty that shuts his burning… The weak lay hand on what the stro… Till that be tumbled that was lift… And discord follow upon unison,
Coole Park and Ballylee, 1931

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Veronica’s Napkin

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Michael Robartes and the Dancer

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Down by the salley gardens my love… She passed the salley gardens with… She bid me take love easy, as the… But I, being young and foolish, w… In a field by the river my love an…
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Adam’s Curse

WE sat together at one summer’s e… That beautiful mild woman, your cl… And you and I, and talked of poet… I said, 'A line will take us hour… Yet if it does not seem a moment’s…
King and No King

“Would it were anything but merely… The No King cried who after that… Because he had not heard of anythi… That balanced with a word is more… Yet Old Romance being kind, let h…
He Bids His Beloved Be at Peace

I hear the Shadowy Horses, their… Their hoofs heavy with tumult, the… The North unfolds above them clin… The East her hidden joy before th… The West weeps in pale dew and si…
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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,
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The Seven Sages

The First. My great-grandfather s… In Grattan’s house. The Second. My great-grandfather… A pot-house bench with Oliver Gol… The Third. My great-grandfather’s…
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