William Butler Yeats Quotes

These are the clouds about the fallen sun, The majesty that shuts his burning eye: The weak lay hand on what the strong has done, Till that be tumbled that was lifted high And discord follow upon unison....
William Butler Yeats (1865-1939), Irish poet, playwright. "These Are the Clouds."
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What if there's nothing up there at the top? Where are the captains that govern mankind? What tears down a tree that has nothing within it? A blast of wind, O a marching wind, March wind, and any old tune, March march and how does it run.
William Butler Yeats (1865-1939), Irish poet, playwright. "Three Marching Songs."
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But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you, And loved the sorrows of your changing face.
William Butler Yeats (1865-1939), Irish poet. When You Are Old (l. 7-8). . . The Collected Poems of W. B. Yeats. Richard J. Finneran, ed. (1989) Macmillan.
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Hollow of cheek as though it drank the wind And took a mess of shadows for its meat?
William Butler Yeats (1865-1939), Irish poet. Among School Children (l. 27-28). . . The Collected Poems of W. B. Yeats. Richard J. Finneran, ed. (1989) Macmillan.
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She bid me take love easy, as the leaves grow on the tree; But I, being young and foolish, with her would not agree.
William Butler Yeats (1865-1939), Irish poet, playwright. Down by the Salley Gardens, Crossways (1889).
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I did the dragon's will until you came Because I had fancied love a casual Improvisation, or a settled game That followed if I let the kerchief fall: Those deeds were best that gave the minute wings And heavenly music if they gave it wit.
William Butler Yeats (1865-1939), Irish poet, playwright. "IV. Her Triumph."
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set upon a golden bough to sing To lords and ladies of Byzantium Of what is past, or passing, or to come.
William Butler Yeats (1865-1939), Irish poet. Sailing to Byzantium (l. 30-32). . . The Collected Poems of W. B. Yeats. Richard J. Finneran, ed. (1989) Macmillan.
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Gabriel will come from the water With a fish-tail, and talk Of wonders that have happened On wet roads where men walk....
William Butler Yeats (1865-1939), Irish poet, playwright. "The Happy Townland."
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Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world, The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere The ceremony of innocence is drowned; The best lack all conviction, while the worst Are full of passionate intensity.
William Butler Yeats (1865-1939), Irish poet, playwright. The Second Coming, st. 1, Michael Robartes and the Dancer (1921).
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Remember all those renowned generations, They left their bodies to fatten the wolves, They left their homesteads to fatten the foxes, Fled to far countries, or sheltered themselves In cavern, crevice or hole, Defending Ireland's soul.
William Butler Yeats (1865-1939), Irish poet, playwright. "Three Marching Songs."
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