Quote

We have fallen in the dreams the ever-living Breathe on the tarnished mirror of the world, And then smooth out with ivory hands and sigh.

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
Dreams
Tarnished
Living
Ivory
Hands
Sigh
Dream
Smooth
Ever
Mirror
World
Fallen
Mirrors
Breathe

More quotes by William Butler Yeats

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Although our love is waning, let us stand by the lone border of the lake once more, together in that hour of gentleness. When the poor tired child, passion, falls asleep.
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For wisdom is the property of the dead, A something incompatible with life and power, Like everything that has the stain of blood, A property of the living but no stain Can come upon the visage of the moon When it has looked in glory from a cloud.
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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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And pluck till time and times are done the silver apples of the moon the golden apples of the sun.
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Come swish around my pretty punk And keep me dancing still That I may stay a sober man Although I drink my fill.
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Pale brows, still hands and dim hair, I had a beautiful friend And dreamed that the old despair Would end in love in the end.
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The Irishman sustains himself during brief periods of joy by the knowledge that tragedy is just around the corner.
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Rose of all Roses, Rose of all the World! You, too, have come where the dim tides are hurled. Upon the wharves of sorrow, and heard ring The bell that calls us on the sweet far thing.
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How can I, that girl standing there, My attention fix On Roman or on Russian Or on Spanish politics?
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The only enemy of innocence and beauty is time.
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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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I sat on cushioned otter-skin: My word was law from Ith to Emain, And shook at Invar Amargin The hearts of the world-troubling seamen, And drove tumult and war away.
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We are closed in, and the key is turned / On our uncertainty.
William Butler Yeats
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I summon to the winding ancient stair Set all your mind upon the steep ascent
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There is no release In a bodkin or disease, Nor can there be a work so great As that which cleans man's dirty slate.
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On the grey rock of Cashel I suddenly saw A Sphinx with woman breast and lion paw, A Buddha, hand at rest, Hand lifted up that blest And right between these two a girl at play That, it may be, had danced her life away.
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How can I, that girl standing there, My attention fix On Roman or on Russian Or on Spanish politics? Yet here's a travelled man that knows What he talks about, And there's a politician That has read and thought, And maybe what they say is true Of war and war's alarms, But O that I were young again And held her in my arms!
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The problem wiv some blokes is that wen they ain't drunk, they're sober.
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Once more the storm is howling, and half hid Under this cradle-hood and coverlid My child sleeps on.
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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?
William Butler Yeats