Bid imagination run / Much on the Great Questioner; / What He can question, what if questioned I / Can with a fitting confidence reply. — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
What if the Church and the State Are the mob that howls at the door! Wine shall run thick to the end,… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
Boughs have their fruit and blossom At all times of the year; Rivers are running over With red beer and brown beer. — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
Between extremities Man runs his course; A brand, or flaming breath, Comes to destroy All those antinomies Of day and night. — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
All that could run or leap or swim Whether in wood, water or cloud, Acclaiming, proclaiming, declaiming Him. — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
I WHISPERED, 'I am too young,' And then, 'I am old enough'; Wherefore I threw a penny To find out if I… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
How could passion run so deep Had I never thought That the crime of being born Blackens all our lot? — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
Oh, Love is the crooked thing, there is nobody wise enough to find out all that is in it, for he will… — 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
