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I, too, await The hour of thy great wind of love and hate. When shall the stars be blown about the sky, Like the sparks blown out of a smithy, and die?

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
Hate
Sparks
Great
Sky
Love
Hour
Like
Wind
Shall
Stars
Dies
Await
Hours
Blown

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A statesman is an easy man, he tells his lies by rote. A journalist invents his lies, and rams them down your throat. So stay at home and drink your beer and let the neighbors vote.
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It seems to me that love, if it is fine, is essentially a discipline.
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How can I, that girl standing there, My attention fix On Roman or on Russian Or on Spanish politics?
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In the great cities we see so little of the world, we drift into our minority. In the little towns and villages there are no minorities people are not numerous enough. You must see the world there, perforce. Every man is himself a class.
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A poet is a good citizen turned inside out.
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Earth in beauty dressed Awaits returning spring. All true love must die, Alter at the best Into some lesser thing. Prove that I lie.
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... Let the cage bird and the cage bird mate and the wild bird mate in the wild.
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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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And a softness came from the starlight and filled me full to the bone.
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There is only one romance the Soul's.
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Things said or done long years ago Or things I did not do or say But thought that I might say or do, Weigh me down, and not a day But something is recalled, My conscience or my vanity appalled.
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In dreams begins responsibility.
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Although our love is waning, let us stand by the lone border of the lake once more, together in that hour of gentleness. When the poor tired child, passion, falls asleep.
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Odor of blood when Christ was slain Made all Platonic tolerance vain And vain all Doric discipline.
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I sat, a solitary man, In a crowded London shop, An open book and empty cup On the marble table-top. While on the shop and street I gazed My body of a sudden blazed And twenty minutes more or less It seemed, so great my happiness, That I was blessed and could bless.
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God guard me from those thoughts men think In the mind alone.
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For he would be thinking of love Till the stars had run away And the shadows eaten the moon.
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