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Many ingenious lovely things are gone / That seemed sheer miracle to the multitude.

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
Miracle
Gone
Many
Ingenious
Things
Multitude
Multitudes
Sheer
Lovely
Seemed

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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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There is another world, but it is in this one.
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I have often had the fancy that there is some one Myth for every man, which, if we but knew it, would make us understand all he did and thought.
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Everything that man esteems Endures a moment or a day.
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Hammer your thoughts into unity.
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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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I--love's skein upon the ground, My body in the tomb-- Shall leap into the light lost In my mother's womb.
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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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Once out of nature I shall never take My bodily form from any natural thing, But such a form as Grecian goldsmiths make
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From our birthday, until we die, Is but the winking of an eye.
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Eyes spiritualised by death can judge, I cannot, but I am not content.
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The problem wiv some blokes is that wen they ain't drunk, they're sober.
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... What matter, so there is but fire In you, in me?
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But stories that live longest Are sung above the glass, And Parnell loved his country And Parnell loved his lass.
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All the stream that's roaring by Came out of a needle's eye.
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When an immortal passion breathes in mortal clay Our hearts endure the scourge, the plaited thorns, the way Crowded with bitter faces, the wounds in palm and side, The vinegar-heavy sponge, the flowers by Kedron stream.
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There is only one romance the Soul's.
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The world being illusive, one must be deluded in some way if one is to triumph in it.
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I had a chair at every hearth, When no one turned to see, With 'Look at that old fellow there, 'And who may he be?
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In dreams begin responsibilitiy.
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