Great Powers of falling wave and wind and windy fire, With your harmonious choir Encircle her I love and sing her into… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
He Who is wrapped in purple robes, With planets in His care, Had pity on the least of things Asleep upon a… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
To sit beside the board and drink good wine And watch the turf smoke coiling from the fire And feel content and… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
How can they know Truth flourishes where the student's lamp has shone, And there alone, that have no solitude? So the crowd… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
It's certain there are trout somewhere - And maybe I shall take a trout - but I do not seem to care. — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
I would have touched it like a child But knew my finger could but have touched Cold stone and water. I grew wild, Even… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
You know what the Englishman's idea of compromise is? He says, Some people say there is a God. Some people say there is no… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
Beloved, let your eyes half close, and your heart beat Over my heart, and your hair fall over my breast, Drowning love's lonely hour… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
That toil of growing up; The ignominy of boyhood; the distress Of boyhood changing into man; The unfinished man and his pain. — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
I see a schoolboy when I think of him, With face and nose pressed to a sweet-shop window. — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
Only God, my dear, Could love you for yourself alone And not your yellow hair. — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
I know that I shall meet my fate somewhere among the clouds above; those that I fight I do not hate, those that I… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
Great literature has always been written in a like spirit, and is, indeed, the Forgiveness of Sin, and when we find it becoming the… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
Where the wave of moonlight glosses The dim gray sands with light, Far off by furthest Rosses We foot it all the night, Weaving… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
His element is so fine Being sharpened by his death, To drink from the wine-breath While our gross palates drink from the whole wine. — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
