William Butler Yeats

(13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939 / County Dublin / Ireland)

To Some I Have Talked With By The Fire - Poem by William Butler Yeats

WHILE I wrought out these fitful Danaan rhymes,
My heart would brim with dreams about the times
When we bent down above the fading coals
And talked of the dark folk who live in souls
Of passionate men, like bats in the dead trees;
And of the wayward twilight companies
Who sigh with mingled sorrow and content,
Because their blossoming dreams have never bent
Under the fruit of evil and of good:
And of the embattled flaming multitude
Who rise, wing above wing, flame above flame,
And, like a storm, cry the Ineffable Name,
And with the clashing of their sword-blades make
A rapturous music, till the morning break
And the white hush end all but the loud beat
Of their long wings, the flash of their white feet.

Comments about To Some I Have Talked With By The Fire by William Butler Yeats

There is no comment submitted by members..

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Read poems about / on: evil, sorrow, music, dark, fire, heart, dream, rose, tree

Poem Submitted: Thursday, May 17, 2001

Poem Edited: Thursday, May 17, 2001

[Hata Bildir]