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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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The Scholars

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He Thinks of His Past Greatness When a Part of the Constellations of Heaven

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The Shadowy Waters: The Harp of Aengus

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Slim Adolescence That a Nymph Has Stripped

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Red Hanrahan's Song About Ireland

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Three Songs to the Same Tune

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