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Much did I rage when young, Being by the world oppressed, But now with flattering tongue It speeds the parting guest.
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
Speed
Speeds
Young
Parting
Much
Guest
World
Flattering
Guests
Oppressed
Rage
Tongue
More quotes by William Butler Yeats
on the instant clamorous eaves, A climbing moon upon an empty sky, And all that lamentation of the leaves, Could but compose man's image and his cry.
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All that could run or leap or swim Whether in wood, water or cloud, Acclaiming, proclaiming, declaiming Him.
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The wind blows out of the gates of the day, The wind blows over the lonely of heart, And the lonely of heart is withered away.
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If I make the lashes dark And the eyes more bright And the lips more scarlet, Or ask if all be right From mirror after mirror, No vanity's displayed: I'm looking for the face I had Before the world was made.
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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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Nothing that we love overmuch Is ponderable to our touch.
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All think what other people think All know the man their neighbor knows. Lord, what would they say Did their Catullus walk that way?
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One had a lovely face, And two or three had charm, But charm and face were in vain. Because the mountain grass Cannot keep the form Where the mountain hare has lain.
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One should say before sleeping: I have lived many lives. I have been a slave and a prince. Many a beloved has sat upon my knee and I have sat upon the knees of many a beloved. Everything that has been shall be again.
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The innocent and the beautiful have no enemy but time.
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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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BELOVED, gaze in thine own heart, The holy tree is growing there.
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When I clamber to the heights of sleep, Or when I grow excited with wine, suddenly I meet your face.
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In luck or out the toil has left its mark: That old perplexity an empty purse, Or the day's vanity, the night's remorse.
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There is another world, but it is in this one.
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I had this thought a while ago, My darling cannot understand What I have done, or what would do In this blind bitter land. And I grew weary of the sun
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All the stream that's roaring by Came out of a needle's eye.
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Tis the eternal law, That first in beauty should be first in might.
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There is no deformity But saves us from a dream.
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The Bishop has a skin, God knows, Wrinkled like the foot of a goose, (All find safety in the tomb.) Nor can he hide in holy black The heron's hunch upon his back, But a birch-tree stood my Jack.
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