William Butler Yeats

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

William Butler Yeats Poems

361. 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
362. To A Young Beauty 5/17/2001
363. To A Young Girl 5/17/2001
364. To An Isle In The Water 5/17/2001
365. To Be Carved On A Stone At Thoor Ballylee 5/17/2001
366. To Dorothy Wellesley 5/17/2001
367. To His Heart, Bidding It Have No Fear 5/17/2001
368. To Ireland In The Coming Times 5/17/2001
369. To Some I Have Talked With By The Fire 5/17/2001
370. To Songs Of A Fool 5/17/2001
371. To The Rose Upon The Rood Of Time 5/17/2001
372. Tom At Cruachan 1/13/2003
373. Tom O'Roughley 5/17/2001
374. Tom The Lunatic 1/3/2003
375. Towards Break Of Day 5/17/2001
376. Two Songs From A Play 1/3/2003
377. Two Songs Of A Fool 1/3/2003
378. Two Songs Rewritten For The Tune's Sake 5/17/2001
379. Two Years Later 5/17/2001
380. Under Ben Bulben 5/17/2001
381. Under Saturn 5/17/2001
382. Under The Moon 5/17/2001
383. Under The Round Tower 5/17/2001
384. Upon A Dying Lady 5/17/2001
385. Upon A House Shaken By The Land Agitation 5/17/2001
386. Vacilliation 5/17/2001
387. Veronica's Napkin 5/17/2001
388. What Then? 5/17/2001
389. What Was Lost 5/17/2001
390. When Helen Lived 5/17/2001
391. When You Are Old 5/17/2001
392. Where My Books Go 1/3/2003
393. Who Goes With Fergus? 5/17/2001
394. Why Should Not Old Men Be Mad? 5/17/2001
395. Wisdom 5/17/2001
396. Words 5/17/2001
397. Words For Music Perhaps 5/17/2001
398. Young Man's Song 1/3/2003
399. Youth And Age 5/17/2001
Best Poem of William Butler Yeats

He Wishes For The Cloths Of Heaven

HAD I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

Read the full of He Wishes For The Cloths Of Heaven

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:

[Report Error]