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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
Guests
Oppressed
Rage
Tongue
Speed
Speeds
Young
Parting
Much
Guest
World
Flattering
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Love is based on inequality as friendship is on equality.
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For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.
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Everything that man esteems Endures a moment or a day. Love's pleasure drives his love away, The painter's brush consumes his dreams.
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Speech after long silence it is right, All other lovers being estranged or dead . . . That we descant and yet again descant Upon the supreme theme of Art and Song: Bodily decrepitude is wisdom young We loved each other and were ignorant.
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Life is a long preparation for something that never happens.
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All men live in suffering I know as few can know, Whether they take the upper road Or stay content on the low.
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Test every work of intellect or faith and everything that your own hands have wrought.
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Nothing but stillness can remain when hearts are full Of their own sweetness, bodies of their loveliness.
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God spreads the heavens above us like great wings, And gives a little round of deeds and days.
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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... Better go down upon your marrow-bones / And scrub a kitchen pavement, or break stones... For to articulate sweet sounds together / Is to work harder than all these, and yet / Be thought an idler by the noisy set.
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Thought is a garment and the soul's a bride That cannot in that trash and tinsel hide: Hatred of God may bring the soul to God.
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I am content to live it all again And yet again, if it be life to pitch Into the frog-spawn of a blind man's ditch.
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To be born woman is to know - although they do not speak of it at school - women must labor to be beautiful.
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Think where man's glory most begins and ends, and say my glory was I had such friends.
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What shall I do with this absurdity- O heart, O troubled heart-this caricature, Decrepit age that has been tied to me As to a dog's tail? Never had I more Excited, passionate, fantastical Imagination, nor an ear and eye That more expected the impossible.
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O but we dreamed to mend Whatever mischief seemed To afflict mankind, but now That winds of winter blow Learn that we were crack-pated when we dreamed.
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And there's a score of duchesses, surpassing womankind, Or who have found a painter to make them so for pay And smooth out stain and blemish with the elegance of his mind: I knew a phoenix in my youth, so let them have their day.
William Butler Yeats
BELOVED, gaze in thine own heart, The holy tree is growing there.
William Butler Yeats
