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There where the course is, Delight makes all of the one mind, The riders upon the galloping horses, The crowd that closes in behind.

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
Makes
Crowds
Mind
Delight
Galloping
Horse
Closes
Behinds
Riders
Behind
Horses
Courses
Racing
Course
Crowd
Upon
Excitement

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Eyes spiritualised by death can judge, I cannot, but I am not content.
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It is so many years before one can believe enough in what one feels even to know what the feeling is
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Time can but make it easier to be wise / Though now it seems impossible, and so / All that you need is patience.
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From our birthday, until we die, Is but the winking of an eye.
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The uncontrollable mystery on the bestial floor.
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to be choked with hate May well be of all evil chances chief.
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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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One had a lovely face, And two or three had charm, But charm and face were in vain. Because the mountain grass Cannot keep the form Where the mountain hare has lain.
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Many ingenious lovely things are gone / That seemed sheer miracle to the multitude.
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A pity beyond all telling is hid in the heart of love.
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I wonder anybody does anything at Oxford but dream and remember
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Teaching is not filling up a pail, it is lighting a fire.
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How can I, that girl standing there, My attention fix On Roman or on Russian Or on Spanish politics? Yet here's a travelled man that knows What he talks about, And there's a politician That has read and thought, And maybe what they say is true Of war and war's alarms, But O that I were young again And held her in my arms!
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The fascination of what's difficult Has dried the sap out of my veins, and rent Spontaneous joy and natural content Out of my heart.
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We have fallen in the dreams the ever-living Breathe on the tarnished mirror of the world, And then smooth out with ivory hands and sigh.
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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.
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What if I bade you leave The cavern of the mind? There's better exercise In the sunlight and wind.
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Things fall apart the center cannot hold.
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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.
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