William Butler Yeats Quotes

Beloved, let your eyes half close, and your heart beat Over my heart, and your hair fall over my breast, Drowning love's lonely hour in deep twilight of rest....
William Butler Yeats (1865-1939), Irish poet, playwright. "He Bids His Beloved Be at Peace."
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Where has Maid Quiet gone to, Nodding her russet hood? The winds that awakened the stars Are blowing through my blood.
William Butler Yeats (1865-1939), Irish poet, playwright. "Maid Quiet."
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Servants round his cushioned place Are with new sorrow wrung; Hounds are gazing on his face, Aged hounds and young.
William Butler Yeats (1865-1939), Irish poet, playwright. "The Ballad of the Foxhunter."
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They must to keep their certainty accuse All that are different of a base intent; Pull down established honour; hawk for news Whatever their loose phantasy invent And murmur it with bated breath....
William Butler Yeats (1865-1939), Irish poet, playwright. "The Leaders of the Crowd."
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I rise in the dawn, and I kneel and blow Till the seed of the fire flicker and glow; And then I must scrub and bake and sweep Till the stars are beginning to blink and peep; And the young lie long and dream in their bed....
William Butler Yeats (1865-1939), Irish poet, playwright. "The Song of the Old Mother."
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"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...."
William Butler Yeats (1865-1939), Irish poet, playwright. "Tom O'Roughley."
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You ask what makes me sigh, old friend, What makes me shudder so? I shudder and I sigh to think That even Cicero And many-minded Homer were Mad as the mist and snow.
William Butler Yeats (1865-1939), Irish poet, playwright. "XVIII. Mad as the Mist and Snow."
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May she be granted beauty and yet not Beauty to make a stranger's eye distraught, Or hers before a looking-glass, for such, Being made beautiful overmuch, Consider beauty a sufficient end, Lose natural kindness
William Butler Yeats (1865-1939), Irish poet. A Prayer for My Daughter (l. 17-22). . . The Collected Poems of W. B. Yeats. Richard J. Finneran, ed. (1989) Macmillan.
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I hear the Shadowy Horses, their long manes a-shake, Their hoofs heavy with tumult, their eyes glimmering white....
William Butler Yeats (1865-1939), Irish poet, playwright. "He Bids His Beloved Be at Peace."
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There is no release In a bodkin or disease, Nor can there be a work so great As that which cleans man's dirty slate.
William Butler Yeats (1865-1939), Irish poet, playwright. "Man and the Echo."
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