William Butler Yeats Quotes

I struggled with the horror of daybreak, I chose it for my lot! If questioned on My utmost pleasure with a man By some new-married bride, I take That stillness for a theme Where his heart my heart did seem....
William Butler Yeats (1865-1939), Irish poet, playwright. "VI. Chosen."
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We who are old, old and gay, O so old! Thousands of years, thousands of years, If all were told:
William Butler Yeats (1865-1939), Irish poet, playwright. "A Faery Song."
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Words are always getting conventionalized to some secondary meaning. It is one of the works of poetry to take the truants in custody and bring them back to their right senses.
William Butler Yeats (1865-1939), Irish poet, playwright. letter, Feb. 3, 1889. Collected Letters, vol. 1, ed. John Kelly (1986). "Poets are the policemen of language," Yeats added, "they are always arresting those old reprobates the words."
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My soul had found All happiness in its own cause or ground. Godhead on Godhead in sexual spasm begot Godhead. Some shadow fell. My soul forgot Those amorous cries that out of quiet come And must the common round of day resume.
William Butler Yeats (1865-1939), Irish poet, playwright. "III. Ribh in Ecstasy."
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Indignant at the fumbling wits, the obscure spite Of our old Paudeen in his shop, I stumbled blind Among the stones and thorn-trees, under morning light....
William Butler Yeats (1865-1939), Irish poet, playwright. "Paudeen."
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For the good are always the merry, Save by an evil chance, And the merry love the fiddle, And the merry love to dance....
William Butler Yeats (1865-1939), Irish poet, playwright. "The Fiddler of Dooney."
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The Powers whose name and shape no living creature knows Have pulled the Immortal Rose; And though the Seven Lights bowed in their dance and wept, The Polar Dragon slept, His heavy rings uncoiled from glimmering deep to deep....
William Butler Yeats (1865-1939), Irish poet, playwright. "The Poet Pleads with the Elemental Powers."
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he changed and ran Through many shapes; I lunged at the smooth throat Of a great eel; it changed, and I but smote A fir-tree roaring in its leafless top; And thereupon I drew the livid chop Of a drowned dripping body to my breast....
William Butler Yeats (1865-1939), Irish poet, playwright. "The Wanderings of Oisin."
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She sings as the moon sings: "I am I, am I; The greater grows my lift The further that I fly." All creation shivers With that sweet cry.
William Butler Yeats (1865-1939), Irish poet, playwright. "VI. He and She."
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Why should I be dismayed Though flame had burned the whole World, as it were a coal, Now I have seen it weighed Against a soul?
William Butler Yeats (1865-1939), Irish poet, playwright. "A Friend's Illness."
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