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Come let us mock at the good That fancied goodness might be gay, And sick of solitude Might proclaim a holiday: Wind shrieked and where are they?
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
Holiday
Good
Gay
Solitude
Goodness
Shrieked
Sick
Fancied
Proclaim
Wind
Mock
Might
Ridicule
Come
More quotes by William Butler Yeats
All that could run or leap or swim Whether in wood, water or cloud, Acclaiming, proclaiming, declaiming Him.
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I have nothing more to give you than my heart. Spanish saying Hearts are not to be had as a gift hearts are to be earned.
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If soul my look and body touch, Which is the more blest?
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Accursed who brings to light of day the writings I have cast away.
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Endure what life God gives and ask no longer span Cease to remember the delights of youth, travel-wearied aged man Delight becomes death-longing if all longing else be vain.
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I gave what other women gave That stepped out of their clothes But when this soul, its body off Naked to naked goes, He it has found shall find therein What none other knows.
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This great purple butterfly, In the prison of my hands, Has a learning in his eye Not a poor fool understands.
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How far away the stars seem, and how far is our first kiss, and ah, how old my heart.
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Love is created and preserved by intellectual analysis, for we love only that which is unique, and it belongs to contemplation, not to action, for we would not change that which we love.
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Though leaves are many, the root is one.
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It seems to me that true love is a discipline.
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O heart! O heart! if she'd but turn her head You'd know the folly of being comforted.
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I knew a phoenix in my youth, so let them have their day.
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The living can assist the imagination of the dead.
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I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements gray, I hear it in the deep heart's core.
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.
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Everything that's lovely is But a brief, dreamy kind of delight.
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But bear in mind your lover's wage Is what your looking-glass can show, And that he will turn green with rage At all that is not pictured there.
William Butler Yeats
Now must we sing and sing the best we can, But first you must be told your character: Convicted cowards all, by kindred slain.
William Butler Yeats
Some burn damp faggots, others may consume The entire combustible world in one small room.
William Butler Yeats