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William Butler Yeats
(1865-1939 / County Dublin / Ireland)
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''When my arms wrap you round I press
My heart upon the loveliness
That has long faded from the world....''
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William Butler Yeats (1865-1939), Irish poet, playwright. "He Remembers Forgotten Beauty."
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''O would that we had met
When I had my burning youth!
But I grow old among dreams,
A weather-worn, marble triton
Among the streams.''
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William Butler Yeats (1865-1939), Irish poet, playwright. "Men Improve with the Years."
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Say that the men of the old black tower
Though they but feed as the goatherd feeds,
Their money spent, their wine gone sour,
Lack nothing that a soldier needs,
That all are oath-bo...
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William Butler Yeats (1865-1939), Irish poet, playwright. "The Black Tower."
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''I bade, because the wick and oil are spent
And frozen are the channels of the blood....''
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William Butler Yeats (1865-1939), Irish poet, playwright. "The Living Beauty."
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''The brawling of a sparrow in the eaves,
The brilliant moon and all the milky sky,
And all that famous harmony of leaves,
Had blotted out man's image and his cry.''
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William Butler Yeats (1865-1939), Irish poet, playwright. "The Sorrow of Love."
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''Come near; I would, before my time to go,
Sing of old Eire and the ancient ways:
Red Rose, proud Rose, sad Rose of all my days.''
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William Butler Yeats (1865-1939), Irish poet, playwright. "To the Rose upon the Rood of Time."
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''Things out of perfection sail
And all their swelling canvas wear....''
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William Butler Yeats (1865-1939), Irish poet, playwright. "XXIV. Old Tom Again."
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''God guard me from those thoughts men think
In the mind alone;
He that sings a lasting song
Thinks in a marrow-bone....''
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William Butler Yeats (1865-1939), Irish poet, playwright. "A Prayer for Old Age."
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''And when you sigh from kiss to kiss
I hear white Beauty sighing, too,
For hours when all must fade like dew....''
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William Butler Yeats (1865-1939), Irish poet, playwright. "He Remembers Forgotten Beauty."
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Opinion is not worth a rush;
In this altar-piece the knight,
Who grips his long spear so to push
That dragon through the fading light,
Loved the lady; and it's plain
The half-...
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William Butler Yeats (1865-1939), Irish poet, playwright. "Michael Robartes and the Dancer."
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