by William Butler Yeats
Stretch towards the moonless midnight of the trees, As though that hand could reach to where they stand, And they but famous old upholsteries Delightful to the touch; tighten that hand As though to draw them… Read the rest
Category: William Butler Yeats
To Ireland In The Coming Times
by William Butler Yeats
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, Because the red-rose-bordered hem Of her,… Read the rest
Tom ORoughley
by William Butler Yeats
Though logic choppers rule the town, And every man and maid and boy Has marked a distant object down, An aimless joy is a pure joy, Or so did Tom ORoughley say That saw the surges… Read the rest
To My Heart, Bidding It Have No Fear
by William Butler Yeats
Be you still, be you still, trembling heart; Remember the wisdom out of the old days: Him who trembles before the flame and the flood, And the winds that blow through the starry ways, Let the… Read the rest
To Some I Have Talked With By The Fire
by William Butler Yeats
While I wrought out these fitful Danaan rhymes, My heart would brim with dreams about the times When we bent down above the fading coals And talked of the dark folk who live in souls Of… Read the rest
To The Rose Upon The Road Of Time
by William Butler Yeats
i(Red Rose, proud Rose, sad Rose of all my days!) i(Come near me, while I sing the ancient ways:) i(Cuchulain battling with the bitter tide;) i(The Druid, grey, wood-nurtured, quiet-eyed,) i(Who cast round Fergus dreams, and… Read the rest
Towards Break Of Day
by William Butler Yeats
Was it the double of my dream The woman that by me lay Dreamed, or did we halve a dream Under the first cold gleam of day? I thought: "There is a waterfall Upon Ben Bulben… Read the rest
To A Shade
by William Butler Yeats
If you have revisited the town, thin Shade, Whether to look upon your monument (I wonder if the builder has been paid) Or happier thoughted when the day is spent To drink of that salt breath… Read the rest
To A Squirrel At Kyle-na-gno
by William Butler Yeats
Come play with me; Why should you run Through the shaking tree As though Id a gun To strike you dead? When all I would do Is to scratch your head And let you go.… Read the rest
To A Wealthy Man
by William Butler Yeats
You gave but will not give again Until enough of Paudeens pence By Biddys halfpennies have lain To be some sort of evidence, Before youll put your guineas down, That things it were a pride to… Read the rest