William Butler Yeats Quotes

Their legs long, delicate and slender, aquamarine their eyes, Magical unicorns bear ladies on their backs. The ladies close their musing eyes. No prophecies, Remembered out of Babylonian almanacs, Have closed the ladies' eyes, their minds are but a pool Where even longing drowns under its own excess....
William Butler Yeats (1865-1939), Irish poet, playwright. "VII. I See Phantoms of Hatred and of the Heart's Fullness and of the Coming Emptiness."
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But here's a haughtier text, The labyrinth of her days That her own strangeness perplexed....
William Butler Yeats (1865-1939), Irish poet, playwright. "Against Unworthy Praise."
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And yonder in the gymnasts' garden thrives The self-sown, self-begotten shape that gives Athenian intellect its mastery, Even the grey-leaved olive-tree Miracle-bred out of the living stone....
William Butler Yeats (1865-1939), Irish poet, playwright. "Colonus' Praise."
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Should the conflagration climb, Run till all the sages know. We the great gazebo built, They convicted us of guilt; Bid me strike a match and blow.
William Butler Yeats (1865-1939), Irish poet. In Memory of Eva Gore-Booth and Con Markiewicz (l. 28-32). . . The Collected Poems of W. B. Yeats. Richard J. Finneran, ed. (1989) Macmillan.
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This night has been so strange that it seemed As if the hair stood up on my head. From going-down of the sun I have dreamed That women laughing, or timid or wild, In rustle of lace or silken stuff, Climbed up my creaking stair.
William Butler Yeats (1865-1939), Irish poet, playwright. "Presences."
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O heart! O heart! if she'd but turn her head, You'd know the folly of being comforted.
William Butler Yeats (1865-1939), Irish poet. The Folly of Being Comforted (l. 14-15). . . The Collected Poems of W. B. Yeats. Richard J. Finneran, ed. (1989) Macmillan.
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Acquaintance; companion; One dear brilliant woman; The best-endowed, the elect, All by their youth undone, All, all, by that inhuman Bitter glory wrecked.
William Butler Yeats (1865-1939), Irish poet, playwright. "The Results of Thought."
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"... I have what no young man can have Because he loves too much. Words I have that can pierce the heart, But what can he do but touch?" Day-break and a candle end.
William Butler Yeats (1865-1939), Irish poet, playwright. "The Wild Old Wicked Man."
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I climb to the tower-top and lean upon broken stone, A mist that is like blown snow is sweeping over all, Valley, river, and elms, under the light of a moon That seems unlike itself, that seems unchangeable, A glittering sword out of the east.
William Butler Yeats (1865-1939), Irish poet, playwright. "VII. I See Phantoms of Hatred and of the Heart's Fullness and of the Coming Emptiness."
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O heart, be at peace, because Nor knave nor dolt can break What's not for their applause, Being for a woman's sake.
William Butler Yeats (1865-1939), Irish poet, playwright. "Against Unworthy Praise."
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