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How far away the stars seem, and how far is our first kiss, and ah, how old my heart.
William Butler Yeats
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William Butler Yeats
Age: 73 †
Born: 1865
Born: June 13
Died: 1939
Died: January 28
Astrologer
Mystic
Playwright
Poet
Politician
Writer
Scrooby
Nottinghamshire
W. B. Yeats
William Yeats
W.B. Yeats
Heart
Kissing
Seem
Memories
Stars
Away
Seems
Firsts
Wedding
First
Kiss
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A speckled cat and a tame hare Eat at my hearthstone And sleep there And both look up to me alone For learning and defence As I look up to Providence.
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Give to these children, new from the world, Rest far from men. Is anything better, anything better? Tell us it then.
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Though leaves are many, the root is one Through all the lying days of my youth I swayed my leaves and flowers in the sun Now I may wither into the truth.
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A thought Of that late death took all my heart for speech.
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Let us go forth, the tellers of tales, and seize whatever prey the heart long for, and have no fear. Everything exists, everything is true, and the earth is only a little dust under our feet.
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O heart the winds have shaken, the unappeasable host Is comelier than candles at Mother Mary's feet.
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How can the arts overcome the slow dying of men's hearts that we call progress ?
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For what but eye and ear silence the mind With the minute particulars of mankind?
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The wrong of unshapely things is a wrong too great to be told I hunger to build them anew and sit on a green knoll apart.
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It seems that I must bid the Muse to pack, / Choose Plato and Plotinus for a friend / Until imagination, ear and eye, / Can be content with argument and deal / In abstract things or be derided by / A sort of battered kettle at the heel.
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I thought it out this very day, Noon upon the clock, A man may put pretence away Who leans upon a stick, May sing, and sing until he drop, Whether to maid or hag.
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And God stands winding His lonely horn, And time and the world are ever in flight.
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Now must we sing and sing the best we can, But first you must be told your character: Convicted cowards all, by kindred slain.
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I spit into the face of time that has transfigured me
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I thought no more was needed Youth to prolong Than dumb-bell and foil To keep the body young. O who could have foretold That the heart grows old?
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The uncontrollable mystery on the bestial floor.
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Irish poets, learn your trade, sing whatever is well made, scorn the sort now growing up all out of shape from toe to top.
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Love is based on inequality as friendship is on equality.
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Homer is my example and his unchristened heart.
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And God, the herdsman, goads them on behind.
William Butler Yeats