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Like a long-legged fly upon the stream / His mind moves upon silence.
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
Mind
Legged
Like
Stream
Streams
Moves
Silence
Upon
Moving
Long
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Though leaves are many, the root is one.
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But boys and girls, pale from the imagined love Of solitary beds, knew what they were, That passion could bring character enough And pressed at midnighht in some public place Live lips upon a plummet-measured face.
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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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Ecstasy is from the contemplation of things vaster than the individual and imperfectly seen perhaps, by all those that still live.
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It takes more courage to dig deep in the dark corners of your own soul and the back alleys of your society than it does for a soldier to fight on the battlefield.
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There's keen delight in what we have: The rattle of pebbles on the shore Under the receding wave.
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Florence Farr once said to me, If we could say to ourselves, with sincerity, 'this passing moment is as good as any I shall ever know,' we could die upon the instant and be united with God.
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I hear it in the deep heart's core.
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Our words must seem to be inevitable.
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Man is in love and loves what vanishes, What more is there to say?
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I went out to the hazelwood because a fire was in my head.
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Poet and sculptor, do the work, / Nor let the modish painter shirk
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Life is a long preparation for something that never happens.
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Let the new faces play what tricks they will In the old rooms night can outbalance day, Our shadows rove the garden gravel still, The living seem more shadowy than they.
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My wretched dragon is perplexed.
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I say that Roger Casement Did what he had to do, He died upon the gallows But that is nothing new.
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John Synge, I and Augusta Gregory, thought All that we did, all that we said or sang Must come from contact with the soil, from that Contact everything Antaeus-like grew strong.
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Where there is nothing, there is God.
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Laughter not time destroyed my voice And put that crack in it, And when the moon's pot-bellied I get a laughing fit.
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Tread softly, for you tread on my dreams
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