William Butler Yeats

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

William Butler Yeats Poems

41. A Woman Homer Sung 5/15/2001
42. A Woman Young And Old 5/15/2001
43. Adam's Curse 5/15/2001
44. Aedh Gives His Beloved Certain Rhymes 1/3/2003
45. Aedh Tells Of A Valley Full Of Lovers 1/3/2003
46. Aedh Wishes For The Cloths Of Heaven 1/3/2003
47. After Long Silence 1/3/2003
48. Against Unworthy Praise 5/15/2001
49. All Souls' Night 5/15/2001
50. All Things Can Tempt Me 5/15/2001
51. Alternative Song For The Severd Head In "The King Of The Great Clock Tower" 12/31/2002
52. Among School Children 5/15/2001
53. An Acre Of Grass 5/15/2001
54. An Appointment 5/15/2001
55. An Image From A Past Life 5/15/2001
56. An Irish Airman Forsees His Death 5/15/2001
57. Anashuya And Vijaya 5/15/2001
58. Another Song Of A Fool 1/13/2003
59. Are You Content? 5/15/2001
60. At Algeciras - A Meditaton Upon Death 1/13/2003
61. At Galway Races 5/15/2001
62. At The Abbey Theatre 5/15/2001
63. Baile And Aillinn 5/15/2001
64. Beautiful Lofty Things 5/15/2001
65. Before The World Was Made 1/13/2003
66. Beggar To Beggar Cried 5/15/2001
67. Blood And The Moon 5/15/2001
68. Broken Dreams 5/15/2001
69. Brown Penny 5/15/2001
70. Byzantium 5/15/2001
71. Chosen 1/13/2003
72. Church And State 5/15/2001
73. Colonel Martin 5/15/2001
74. Colonus' Praise 5/15/2001
75. Come Gather Round Me, Parnellites 5/15/2001
76. Consolation 1/13/2003
77. Coole Park And Ballylee, 1931 1/13/2003
78. Coole Park, 1929 1/13/2003
79. Crazy Jane And Jack The Journeyman 1/13/2003
80. Crazy Jane And The Bishop 1/13/2003
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:

[Hata Bildir]