Youth and Age, by William Butler Yeats
Much did I rage when young,Being by the World oppressed,But now with flattering tongueIt speeds t...
Poems by William Butler Yeats
The Road at My Door, by William Butler Yeats
An affable Irregular,A heavily-built Falstaffan man,Comes cracking jokes of civil warAs though to...
VI—The Stare’s Nest By My Window , by William Butler Yeats
The bees build in the crevicesOf loosening masonry, and thereThe mother birds bring grubs and fli...
My Table, by William Butler Yeats
Two heavy tressels, and a boardWhere Sato’s gift, a changeless sword,By pen and paper lies,That i...
My Descendants, by William Butler Yeats
Having inherited a vigorous mindFrom my old fathers I must nourish dreamsAnd leave a woman and a ...
The Young Man's Song, by William Butler Yeats
I whispered, "I am too young,"
And then, "I am old enough";
Wherefore I threw a penny
To ...
The Sorrow of Love, by William Butler Yeats
The quarrel of the sparrows in the eaves,
The full round moon and the star-laden sky,
And the l...
The Player Queen, by William Butler Yeats
(Song from an Unfinished Play)
My mother dandled me and sang,
'How young it is, how young!' ...
Adam's Curse, by William Butler Yeats
We sat together at one summer's end,
That beautiful mild woman, your close friend,
And you and I,...
A Drinking Song, by William Butler Yeats
Wine comes in at the mouth
And love comes in at the eye;
That’s all we shall know for truth...
The Fisherman, by William Butler Yeats
Although I can see him still,
The freckled man who goes
To a grey place on a hill
In grey Connema...
Who goes with Fergus?, by William Butler Yeats
Who will go drive with Fergus now,
And pierce the deep wood's woven shade,
And dance upon the l...
The Wild Swans at Coole, by William Butler Yeats
The trees are in their autumn beauty,
The woodland paths are dry,
Under the October twilight ...
The Magi, by William Butler Yeats
Now as at all times I can see in the mind's eye,In their stiff, painted clothes, the pale unsatis...
The Balloon of the Mind, by William Butler Yeats
Hands, do what you're bid:Bring the balloon of the mindThat bellies and drags in the windInto its...