William Butler Yeats

William Butler Yeats

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William Butler Yeats[a] (13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939) was an Irish poet and one of the foremost figures of 20th-century literature. A pillar of the Irish literary establishment, he helped to found the Abbey Theatre, and in his later years served two terms as a Senator of the Irish Free State.
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Men Improve With The Years

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I AM worn out with dreams;
A weather-worn, marble
Among the streams;
And all day long I
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Down By The Salley Gardens

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WN by the salley gardens my love and I did meet;
She passed the salley gardens with little snow-whitefeet
She bid me take love easy, as the leaves grow on the tree;
But I, being young and foolish, with her would notagree
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The Old Men Admiring Themselves In The Water

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I
RD the old, old men say,"Everything alters,
And one by one we drop away
"They had hands like claws, and their
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Ephemera

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UR eyes that once were never weary of
Are bowed in sorrow under pendulous lids,
Because our love is waning
"And then She:"Although our love is waning, let us
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Leda And The Swan

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A
EN blow:  the great wings beating
Above the staggering girl, her thighs
By the dark webs, her nape caught in his bill,
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Long-Legged Fly

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That civilisation may not sink,
Its great battle lost,
Quiet the dog, tether the
To a distant post;
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The Indian To His Love

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HE island dreams under the
And great boughs drop tranquillity;
The peahens dance on a smooth lawn,
A parrot sways upon a tree,
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For Anne Gregory

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ER shall a young man,
Thrown into
By those great
Ramparts at your ear,
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Nineteen Hundred And Nineteen

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NY ingenious lovely things are
That seemed sheer miracle to the multitude,protected from the circle of the
That pitches common things about
There
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The Song Of Wandering Aengus

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I
NT out to the hazel wood,
Because a fire was in my head,
And cut and peeled a hazel wand,
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News For The Delphic Oracle

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There all the golden codgers lay,
There the silver dew,
And the great water sighed for love,
And the wind sighed too
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Never Give All The Heart

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ER give all the heart, for
Will hardly seem worth thinking
To passionate women if it
Certain, and they never
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No Second Troy

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HY should I blame her that she filled my
With misery, or that she would of
Have taught to ignorant men most violent ways,
Or hurled the little streets upon the great
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Paudeen

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NT at the fumbling wits, the obscure
Of our old paudeen in his shop,
I stumbled
Among the stones and thorn-trees, under morning light;
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In Memory Of Eva Gore-Booth And Con Markiewicz

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The light of evening,
Lissadell,
Great windows open to the south,
Two girls in silk kimonos,
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Brown Penny

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I
ED, "I am too young,"And then, "I am old enough";
Wherefore I threw a
To find out if I might love
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