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Imagining in excited reverie That the future years had come, Dancing to a frenzied drum, Out of the murderous innocence of the sea.

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
Imagining
Innocence
Dancing
Excited
Sea
Frenzied
Future
Murderous
Come
Reverie
Years
Drum

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for never yet Has lover lived, but longed to wive Like them that are no more alive.
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The Land of Faery, Where nobody gets old and godly and grave, Where nobody gets old and crafty and wise, Where nobody gets old and bitter of tongue.
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Hurrah for revolution and cannon come again! The beggars have changed places, but the lash goes on.
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Those men that in their writings are most wise Own nothing but their blind, stupefied hearts.
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O would, beloved, that you lay Under the dock-leaves in the ground, While lights were paling one by one.
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For the good are always the merry, / Save by an evil chance,/ And the merry love the fiddle,/ And the merry love to dance: / And when the folk there spy me,/ They will all come up to me, / With,”Here is the fiddler of Dooney!” / And dance like a wave of the sea.
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Whence had they come The hand and lash that beat down frigid Rome? What sacred drama through her body heaved When world-transforming Charlemagne was conceived?
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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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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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A line will take us hours maybe Yet if it does not seem a moment's thought, our stitching and unstitching has been naught.
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Too many things are occurring for even a big heart to hold.
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A man in his own secret meditation / Is lost amid the labyrinth that he has made / In art or politics.
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Bodily decrepitude is wisdom young We loved each other and were ignorant.
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The only business of the head in the world is to bow a ceaseless obeisance to the heart.
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Not a man alive has so much luck that he can play with it.
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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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Nor bird nor beast Could make me wish for anything this day, Being old, but that the old alone might die, And that would be against God's Providence.
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I pray-for fashion's word is out And prayer comes round again- That I may seem, though I die old, A foolish, passionate man.
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Talent perceives differences genius, unity.
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Though leaves are many, the root is one.
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