“How many loved your moments of glad grace, And loved your beauty with love false or true, But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you, And loved the sorrows of your changing face;” ― W. B. Yeats” — W. B. Yeats Copy Share Image
“ . . . after twenty centuries of stony sleep, what rough beast, its hour come round at last, slouches toward Bethlehem to be… — W. B. Yeats Copy Share Image
“All things uncomely and broken, all things worn out and old, The cry of a child by the roadway, the creak of a lumbering cart, The heavy steps of the ploughman, splashing the wintry mould, Are wronging your image that blossoms a rose in the deeps of my heart. The wrong of unshapely things is a wrong too great to… — W. B. Yeats Copy Share
“Now days are dragon-ridden, the nightmare Rides upon sleep: a drunken soldiery Can leave the mother, murdered at her door, To crawl in her… — W. B. Yeats Copy Share Image
“For he comes, the human child! To the waters and the wild With a faery, hand in hand, From a world more full of… — W. B. YEATS Copy Share Image
“How many loved your moments of glad grace, And loved your beauty with love false or true, But one man loved the pilgrim soul… — W. B. Yeats Copy Share Image
