And pluck till time and times are done the silver apples of the moon the golden apples of the sun. — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
All that I have said and done, Now that I am old and ill, Turns into a question till I lie awake… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
I had this thought a while ago, "My darling cannot understand What I have done, or what would do In this blind… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
The hare grows old as she plays in the sun And gazes around her with eyes of brightness; Before the swift things… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
Things said or done long years ago Or things I did not do or say But thought that I might say or… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
I call on those that call me son, Grandson, or great-grandson, On uncles, aunts, great-uncles or great-aunts, To judge what I have… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
When all is said and done, how do we know but that our own unreason may be better than another's truth? for… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
Though I am old with wandering Through hollow lands and hilly lands, I will find out where she has gone, And kiss… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
Why should I blame her that she filled my days With misery, or that she would of late Have taught to ignorant… — 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
