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I sat on cushioned otter-skin: My word was law from Ith to Emain, And shook at Invar Amargin The hearts of the world-troubling seamen, And drove tumult and war away.
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
Heart
Sat
Cushioned
World
Skin
Otter
Skins
Otters
Hearts
Seamen
Law
Tumult
Word
Troubling
War
Drove
Away
Shook
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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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The pain others give passes away in their later kindness, but that of our own blunders, especially when they hurt our vanity, never passes away
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It seems to me that love, if it is fine, is essentially a discipline.
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I have known more men destroyed by the desire to have wife and child and to keep them in comfort than I have seen destroyed by drink and harlots.
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Death and life were not Till man made up the whole, Made lock, stock and barrel Out of his bitter soul
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For how can you compete Being honour bred, with one Who, were it proved he lies, Were neither shamed in his own Nor in his neighbour's eyes?
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God spreads the heavens above us like great wings, And gives a little round of deeds and days.
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Poet and sculptor, do the work, / Nor let the modish painter shirk
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One often hears of a horse that shivers with terror, or of a dog that howls at something a mans eyes cannot see, and men who live primitive lives where instinct does the work of reason are fully conscious,of many things we cannot perceive at all. As life becomes more orderly, more deliberate, the supernatural world sinks farther away.
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Mock mockers after that That would not lift a hand maybe To help good, wise or great To bar that foul storm out, for we Traffic in mockery.
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The women that I picked spoke sweet and low And yet gave tongue. Hound voices were they all.
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Oh, Love is the crooked thing, there is nobody wise enough to find out all that is in it, for he will be thinking about love til the stars run away and the shadows eaten the moon.
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BELOVED, gaze in thine own heart, The holy tree is growing there.
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Where the world ends The mind is made unchanging, for it finds Miracle, ecstasy, the impossible hope, The flagstone under all, the fire of fires, The roots of the world.
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Hurrah for revolution and cannon come again! The beggars have changed places, but the lash goes on.
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Many times man lives and dies Betweeen his two eternities, That of race and that of soul, And ancient Ireland knew it all. Whether man die in his bed Or the rifle knocks him dead
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