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The hare grows old as she plays in the sun And gazes around her with eyes of brightness Before the swift things that she dreamed of were done She limps along in an aged whiteness.
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
Grows
Brightness
Eyes
Swift
Age
Aged
Eye
Dreamed
Limps
Around
Aging
Gazes
Play
Plays
Hare
Done
Sun
Hares
Things
Along
Whiteness
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Though pedantry denies, It's plain the Bible means That Solomon grew wise While talking with his queens.
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The poor have very few hours in which to enjoy themselves they must take their pleasure raw they haven't the time to cook it.
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Accursed who brings to light of day the writings I have cast away.
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I know that I shall meet my fate somewhere among the clouds above those that I fight I do not hate, those that I guard I do not love.
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My father upon the Abbey stage, before him a raging crowd. This Land of Saints, and then as the applause died out, Of plaster Saints his beautiful mischievous head thrown back.
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Acquaintance companion One dear brilliant woman The best-endowed, the elect, All by their youth undone, All, all, by that inhuman Bitter glory wrecked.
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O heart, we are old The living beauty is for younger men: We cannot pay its tribute of wild tears.
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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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Somewhere beyond the curtain Of distorting days Lives that lonely thing That shone before these eyes Targeted, trod like Spring.
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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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Consume my heart away, sick with desire And fastened to a dying animal It knows not what it is, and gather me Into the artifice of eternity.
William Butler Yeats
And a softness came from the starlight and filled me full to the bone.
William Butler Yeats
The soul of man is of the imperishable substance of the stars!
William Butler Yeats
A line will take us hours maybe Yet if it does not seem a moment's thought, our stitching and unstitching has been naught.
William Butler Yeats
The Irishman sustains himself during brief periods of joy by the knowledge that tragedy is just around the corner.
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It seems to me that love, if it is fine, is essentially a discipline.
William Butler Yeats
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.
William Butler Yeats
Our own acts are isolated and one act does not buy absolution for another.
William Butler Yeats
Teaching is not filling up a pail, it is lighting a fire.
William Butler Yeats
