Quotes
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Her Triumph. I did the dragon's will until you came. Because I had fancied love a casual. Improvisation, or a settled game. That followed if I let the kerchief fall: Those deeds were best that gave the minute wings. And heavenly music if they gave it wit; And then you stood among the dragon-rings. I mocked, being crazy, but you mastered it. And broke the chain and set my ankles free, Saint George or else a pagan Perseus; And now we stare astonished at the sea, And a miraculous strange bird...
William Butler Yeats
Who Goes With Fergus?
Who will go drive with Fergus now,
And pierce the deep wood's woven shade,
And dance upon the level shore?
Young man, lift up your russet brow,
And lift your tender eyelids, maid,
And brood on hopes and fear no more.
And no more turn aside and brood
Upon love's bitter mystery;
For Fergus rules the brazen cars,
And rules the shadows of the wood,
And the white breast of the dim sea
And all dishevelled wandering stars.
William Butler Yeats
Rose of all Roses, Rose of all the World! You, too, have come where the dim tides are hurled Upon the wharves of sorrow, and heard ring The bell that calls us on; the sweet far thing. Beauty grown sad with its eternity Made you of us, and of the dim grey sea. Our long ships loose thought-woven sails and wait, For God has bid them share an equal fate; And when at last defeated in His wars, They have gone down under the same white stars, We shall no longer hear the little cry Of our sad hearts,...
William Butler Yeats
THAT crazed girl improvising her music. Her poetry, dancing upon the shore, Her soul in division from itself. Climbing, falling She knew not where, Hiding amid the cargo of a steamship, Her knee-cap broken, that girl I declare. A beautiful lofty thing, or a thing. Heroically lost, heroically found. No matter what disaster occurred. She stood in desperate music wound, Wound, wound, and she made in her triumph. Where the bales and the baskets lay. No common intelligible sound. But sang, 'O...
William Butler Yeats
By the Hospital Lane goes the 'Faeries Path.' Every evening they travel from the hill to the sea, from the sea to the hill. At the sea end of their path stands a cottage. One night Mrs. Arbunathy, who lived there, left her door open, as she was expecting her son. Her husband was asleep by the fire; a tall man came in and sat beside him. After he had been sitting there for a while, the woman said, 'In the name of God, who are you?' He got up and went out, saying, 'Never leave the door open at...
William Butler Yeats
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