William Butler Yeats

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

William Butler Yeats Poems

1. To Be Carved On A Stone At Ballylee 1/3/2003
2. To A Wealthy Man Who Promised A Second Subscription To The Dublin Municipal Gallery If It Were 1/1/2004
3. The Poet Pleads With The Elemental Powers 5/17/2001
4. To A Wealthy Man Who Promised A Second Subscription To The Dublin Municipal Gallery If It Were Proved The People Wanted Pictures 5/17/2001
5. Three Songs To The Same Tune 5/17/2001
6. Two Songs Rewritten For The Tune's Sake 5/17/2001
7. The Happy Townland 5/17/2001
8. The Statesman's Holiday 5/17/2001
9. To Songs Of A Fool 5/17/2001
10. Tom O'Roughley 5/17/2001
11. The Shadowy Waters: Introductory Lines 1/13/2003
12. The Three Monuments 5/17/2001
13. The New Faces 5/17/2001
14. To Dorothy Wellesley 5/17/2001
15. The Moods 5/17/2001
16. The Spirit Medium 5/17/2001
17. The Pilgrim 5/17/2001
18. To A Poet, Who Would Have Me Praise Certain Bad Poets, Imitators Of His And Mine 5/17/2001
19. The Mountain Tomb 5/17/2001
20. The Ragged Wood 5/17/2001
21. The Three Beggars 12/31/2002
22. The Shadowy Waters: The Harp Of Aengus 1/13/2003
23. The Nineteenth Century And After 5/17/2001
24. Tom At Cruachan 1/13/2003
25. The Results Of Thought 5/17/2001
26. The Lover Speaks To The Hearers Of His Songs In Coming Days 5/17/2001
27. Under The Round Tower 5/17/2001
28. Two Songs Of A Fool 1/3/2003
29. Under Saturn 5/17/2001
30. The Valley Of The Black Pig 1/3/2003
31. The Valleys Of The Black Pig 5/17/2001
32. The Realists 5/17/2001
33. The Wanderings Of Oisin: Book Ii 1/3/2003
34. The Wild Old Wicked Man 5/17/2001
35. The Peacock 1/13/2003
36. The Wanderings Of Oisin: Book Iii 1/3/2003
37. The Spur 5/17/2001
38. The Indian Upon God 5/17/2001
39. The Indian To His Love 5/17/2001
40. The Rose Of Peace 5/17/2001
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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