A Song

I THOUGHT no more was needed
Youth to polong
Than dumb-bell and foil
To keep the body young.

by William Butler Yeats Click to read full poem

Comments about A Song

Edward Kofi Louis 16 Apr 2018 11:45
At her side! ! Thanks for sharing.
Nudershada Cabanes 16 Apr 2018 10:19
For who could have foretold That the heart grows old? No one can foretell the future. Aging is an experience to be lived and enjoyed.
Savita Tyagi 16 Apr 2018 09:05
Life unfolds as we walk through it. None of forsee much though it has been there before us and would be there after us. What we experience is the only thing that matters.
Anil Kumar Panda 16 Apr 2018 07:39
Everyone is going to be old and die. Nice poem. Enjoyed.
Kumarmani Mahakul 16 Apr 2018 02:28
It would burn the body at death bed but can't burn the soul. A beautiful poem shared. It is nice to be choosen POD.
Robert Murray Smith 16 Apr 2018 02:18
This poem has been presented with typographical errors. I am not pleased that this is so. The poem itself is second rate not worthy of this category.
Bernard F. Asuncion 16 Apr 2018 01:52
Such a great song by William Butler Yeats👍👍👍
Ruta Mohapatra 16 Apr 2018 01:51
The last two lines are so memorable!
Ratnakar Mandlik 16 Apr 2017 10:52
who could have foretold that the heart grows old? Nice question.
Lantz Pierre 16 Apr 2017 07:58
Andrew Hoellering's critique below is enlightening. It's refreshing to come across a comment on a poem here that actually has something to say. A comment that demonstrates the person read the poem, thought through it and even made connections with other texts. Critical thinking is a beautiful thing.
Edward Kofi Louis 16 Apr 2017 02:20
Foretold! Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
Bernard F. Asuncion 16 Apr 2017 01:05
Many words... thanks for posting....
Tapan M. Saren 16 Apr 2017 12:32
A very nice song indeed...........
Andrew Hoellering 14 Dec 2009 10:57
There is an interesting contrast here with Thomas Hardy's great poem, 'I Look into my Mirror.' I LOOK into my glass, And view my wasting skin, And say, 'Would God it came to pass My heart had shrunk as thin! ' For then, I, undistrest By hearts grown cold to me, Could lonely wait my endless rest With equanimity. But Time, to make me grieve, Part steals, lets part abide; And shakes this fragile frame at eve With throbbings of noontide. Yeats laments that the heart grows old, even though one keeps the body in shape. He still feels sexual desire, but regrets that he is unable to satisfy it in others.He in fact mourns the death of the heart, without specifying exactly where it lies. Hardy's poem is a complete contrast.Looking into his mirror, he objectively notes the destruction wrought by age and wishes that his capacity to feel had diminished alongside with his features. The second verse tells us that what hurts most is the falling off of affection towards him; the felt loss of love from those who mean most to him. He notes that bodily and emotional decrepitude - the capacity to feel and care –do not go hand in hand; one dies piecemeal. The ‘throbbings of noontide’ refers not just to memories but to this lasting capacity to feel and care. So much in three verses, using ballad form and a simple abab rhyme scheme, is itself a definition of genius.