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For he would be thinking of love Till the stars had run away And the shadows eaten the moon.

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
Moon
Stars
Running
Away
Would
Eaten
Love
Shadows
Thinking
Till
Shadow

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All that we did, all that we said or sang must come from contact with the soil.
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What's memory but the ash That chokes our fires that have begun to sink?
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It is most important that we should keep in this country a certain leisured class. I am of the opinion of the ancient Jewish book which says there is no wisdom without leisure.
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Heaven blazing into the head: Tragedy wrought to its uttermost. Though Hamlet rambles and Lear rages And all the drop-scenes drop at once Upon a hundred thousand stages It cannot grow by an inch or an ounce.
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to be choked with hate May well be of all evil chances chief.
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No art can conquer the people alone-the people are conquered by an ideal of life upheld by authority.
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Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths, Enwrought with golden and silver light, The blue and the dim and the dark cloths Of night and light and the half light, I would spread the cloths under your feet: But I, being poor, have only my dreams I have spread my dreams under your feet Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
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Man is in love and loves what vanishes, What more is there to say?
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I dreamed that I stood in a valley, and amid sighs, For happy lovers passed two by two where I stood And I dreamed my lost love came stealthily out of the wood With her cloud-pale eyelids falling on dream-dimmed eyes.
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I knew that I had seen, had seen at last That girl my unremembering nights hold fast Or else my dreams that fly If I should rub an eye, And yet in flying fling into my meat A crazy juice that makes the pulses beat.
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... Let the cage bird and the cage bird mate and the wild bird mate in the wild.
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But Love has pitched his mansion in the place of excrement. For nothing can be sole or whole that has not been rent.
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In dreams begins responsibility.
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May we two stand, When we are dead, beyond the setting suns, A little from other shades apart, With mingling hair, and play upon one lute.
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The old priest Peter Gilligan Was weary night and day For half his flock were in their beds, Or under green sods lay.
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I summon to the winding ancient stair Set all your mind upon the steep ascent
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