A Meditation In Time Of War
FOR one throb of the artery,
While on that old grey stone I Sat
Under the old wind-broken tree,
I knew that One is animate,
Mankind inanimate fantasy'.
poem by William Butler Yeats
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On Hearing That The Students Of Our New University Have Joined The Agitation Against Immoral Literat
Where, where but here have pride and Truth,
That long to give themselves for wage,
To shake their wicked sides at youth
Restraining reckless middle-age?
poem by William Butler Yeats
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On Hearing That The Students Of Our New University Have Joined the Agitation Against Immoral Literature
WHERE, where but here have pride and Truth,
That long to give themselves for wage,
To shake their wicked sides at youth
Restraining reckless middle-age?
poem by William Butler Yeats
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The Witch
TOIL and grow rich,
What's that but to lie
With a foul witch
And after, drained dry,
To be brought
To the chamber where
Lies one long sought
With despair?
poem by William Butler Yeats
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The Coming Of Wisdom With Time
THOUGH leaves are many, the root is one;
Through all the lying days of my youth
I swayed my leaves and flowers in the sun;
Now I may wither into the truth.
poem by William Butler Yeats
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Three Movements
SHAKESPEAREAN fish swam the sea, far away from land;
Romantic fish swam in nets coming to the hand;
What are all those fish that lie gasping on the strand?
poem by William Butler Yeats
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A Man Young And Old: III. The Mermaid
A mermaid found a swimming lad,
Picked him for her own,
Pressed her body to his body,
Laughed; and plunging down
Forgot in cruel happiness
That even lovers drown.
poem by William Butler Yeats
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To A Squirrel At Kyle-Na-No
Come play with me;
Why should you run
Through the shaking tree
As though I'd a gun
To strike you dead?
When all I would do
Is to scratch your head
And let you go.
poem by William Butler Yeats
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Tom At Cruachan
On Cruachan's plain slept he
That must sing in a rhyme
What most could shake his soul:
'The stallion Eternity
Mounted the mare of Time,
'Gat the foal of the world.'
poem by William Butler Yeats
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The Spur
YOU think it horrible that lust and rage
Should dance attention upon my old age;
They were not such a plague when I was young;
What else have I to spur me into song?
poem by William Butler Yeats
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