Poet and sculptor, do the work, / Nor let the modish painter shirk — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
If a poet interprets a poem of his own he limits its suggestibility. — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
I think it better that in times like these a poet's mouth be silent, for in truth we have no gift to… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
O cloud-pale eyelids, dream-dimmed eyes, The poets labouring all their days To build a perfect beauty in rhyme Are overthrown by a… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
The true poet is all the time a visionary and whether with friends or not, as much alone as a man on… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
All think what other people think; All know the man their neighbor knows. Lord, what would they say Did their Catullus walk… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
Poetry and music I have banished, But the stupidity Of root, shoot, blossom or clay Makes no demand. I bend my body… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
I have heard that hysterical women say They are sick of the palette and fiddle-bow, Of poets that are always gay — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
We poets would die of loneliness but for women, and we choose our men friends that we may have somebody to talk… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
O heart, be at peace, because Nor knave nor dolt can break What's not for their applause, Being for a woman's sake. — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
Even the wisest man grows tense With some sort of violence Before he can accomplish fate, Know his work or choose his… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
All things can tempt me from this craft of verse: One time it was a woman's face, or worse-- The seeming needs… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
Some moralist or mythological poet Compares the solitary soul to a swan; I am satisfied with that, Satisfied if a troubled mirror… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
“And now he is singing a bard's curse upon you, O brother abbot, and upon your father and your mother, and your… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
Even when the poet seems most himself . . . he is never the bundle of accident and incoherence that sits down… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
Had there been no Renaissance and no Italian influence to bring in the stories of other lands English history would, it may… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
I thought of rhyme alone, For rhyme can beat a measure out of trouble And make the daylight sweet once more. — 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
