William Butler Yeats

[W.B. Yeats] (13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939 / County Dublin / Ireland)

William Butler Yeats Poems

1. Tom At Cruachan 1/13/2003
2. The Death of Cuchulain 6/13/2015
3. Two Songs Rewritten For The Tune's Sake 5/17/2001
4. The Three Monuments 5/17/2001
5. To A Wealthy Man Who Promised A Second Subscription To The Dublin Municipal Gallery If It Were 1/1/2004
6. The Statesman's Holiday 5/17/2001
7. The Poet Pleads With The Elemental Powers 5/17/2001
8. Two Songs Of A Fool 1/3/2003
9. Under Saturn 5/17/2001
10. Three Songs To The Same Tune 5/17/2001
11. Tom O'Roughley 5/17/2001
12. The Ragged Wood 5/17/2001
13. The Three Beggars 12/31/2002
14. The Travail Of Passion 5/17/2001
15. The Seven Sages 5/17/2001
16. Veronica's Napkin 5/17/2001
17. The Wanderings Of Oisin: Book Iii 1/3/2003
18. The Valleys Of The Black Pig 5/17/2001
19. To A Wealthy Man Who Promised A Second Subscription To The Dublin Municipal Gallery If It Were Proved The People Wanted Pictures 5/17/2001
20. The Wanderings Of Oisin: Book Ii 1/3/2003
21. The Mountain Tomb 5/17/2001
22. The New Faces 5/17/2001
23. The Old Age Of Queen Maeve 5/17/2001
24. To Dorothy Wellesley 5/17/2001
25. These Are The Clouds 5/17/2001
26. The Happy Townland 5/17/2001
27. The Three Hermits 5/17/2001
28. The Spirit Medium 5/17/2001
29. The Unappeasable Host 5/17/2001
30. The Sad Shepherd 5/17/2001
31. The Peacock 1/13/2003
32. The Spur 5/17/2001
33. The Moods 5/17/2001
34. To A Squirrel At Kyle-Na-No 1/13/2003
35. The Grey Rock 1/13/2003
36. Upon A Dying Lady 5/17/2001
37. Under The Round Tower 5/17/2001
38. The People 5/17/2001
39. The Wild Old Wicked Man 5/17/2001
40. The Lover Speaks To The Hearers Of His Songs In Coming Days 5/17/2001
Best Poem of William Butler Yeats

When You Are Old

WHEN you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;
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;
And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

Read the full of When You Are Old

The White Birds

I WOULD that we were, my beloved, white birds on the foam of the sea!
We tire of the flame of the meteor, before it can fade and flee;
And the flame of the blue star of twilight, hung low on the rim of the sky,
Has awaked in our hearts, my beloved, a sadness that may not die.
A weariness comes from those dreamers, dew-dabbled, the lily and rose;
Ah, dream not of them, my beloved, the flame of the meteor that goes,
Or the flame of the blue star that lingers hung low in the fall of the dew:

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