William Butler Yeats

(13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939 / County Dublin / Ireland)

William Butler Yeats Poems

1. When You Are Old 5/17/2001
2. He Wishes For The Cloths Of Heaven 5/15/2001
3. A Drinking Song 5/15/2001
4. A Crazed Girl 5/15/2001
5. A Coat 5/15/2001
6. The Second Coming 5/17/2001
7. The Lake Isle Of Innisfree 5/17/2001
8. A Faery Song 5/15/2001
9. A Dream Of Death 5/15/2001
10. Sailing To Byzantium 5/16/2001
11. Brown Penny 5/15/2001
12. A Dialogue Of Self And Soul 5/15/2001
13. Youth And Age 5/17/2001
14. An Irish Airman Forsees His Death 5/15/2001
15. Love's Loneliness 1/13/2003
16. A Deep-Sworn Vow 5/15/2001
17. A Cradle Song 5/15/2001
18. Aedh Wishes For The Cloths Of Heaven 1/3/2003
19. A First Confession 1/13/2003
20. A Drunken Man's Praise Of Sobriety 5/15/2001
21. A Man Young And Old: I. First Love 1/13/2003
22. Easter, 1916 1/13/2003
23. The Song Of Wandering Aengus 5/17/2001
24. A Last Confession 1/13/2003
25. A Bronze Head 5/15/2001
26. Byzantium 5/15/2001
27. A Man Young And Old: Iii. The Mermaid 1/13/2003
28. Leda And The Swan 5/15/2001
29. A Friend's Illness 5/15/2001
30. The Stolen Child 5/17/2001
31. An Acre Of Grass 5/15/2001
32. September 1913 1/3/2003
33. Never Give All The Heart 5/15/2001
34. Down By The Salley Gardens 5/15/2001
35. Politics 5/15/2001
36. A Dramatic Poem 5/15/2001
37. A Man Young And Old 5/15/2001
38. A Lover's Quarrel Among The Fairies 1/3/2003
39. Among School Children 5/15/2001
40. A Prayer For My Daughter 5/15/2001
Best Poem of William Butler Yeats

When You Are Old

WHEN you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;
How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim Soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;
And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

Read the full of When You Are Old

The White Birds

I WOULD that we were, my beloved, white birds on the foam of the sea!
We tire of the flame of the meteor, before it can fade and flee;
And the flame of the blue star of twilight, hung low on the rim of the sky,
Has awaked in our hearts, my beloved, a sadness that may not die.
A weariness comes from those dreamers, dew-dabbled, the lily and rose;
Ah, dream not of them, my beloved, the flame of the meteor that goes,
Or the flame of the blue star that lingers hung low in the fall of the dew:

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