William Butler Yeats

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

William Butler Yeats Poems

81. Crazy Jane Grown Old Looks At The Dancers 1/13/2003
82. Crazy Jane On God 1/13/2003
83. Crazy Jane On The Day Of Judgment 1/13/2003
84. Crazy Jane On The Mountain 5/15/2001
85. Crazy Jane Reproved 1/13/2003
86. Crazy Jane Talks With The Bishop 1/13/2003
87. Cuchulain Comforted 5/15/2001
88. Cuchulain's Fight With The Sea 1/3/2003
89. Death 5/15/2001
90. Demon And Beast 5/15/2001
91. Down By The Salley Gardens 5/15/2001
92. Drinking Song 1/3/2003
93. Easter, 1916 1/13/2003
94. Ego Dominus Tuus 5/15/2001
95. Ephemera 5/15/2001
96. Faery Song 1/3/2003
97. Fallen Majesty 1/3/2003
98. Father And Child 1/13/2003
99. Fergus And The Druid 5/15/2001
100. For Anne Gregory 5/15/2001
101. Form The Green Helmet And Other Poems 5/15/2001
102. Fragments 5/15/2001
103. Friends 5/15/2001
104. From A Full Moon In March 5/15/2001
105. From The 'Antigone' 1/13/2003
106. Girl's Song 1/13/2003
107. Gratitude To The Unknown Instructors 5/15/2001
108. He Bids His Beloved Be At Peace 5/15/2001
109. He Gives His Beloved Certain Rhymes 5/15/2001
110. He Hears The Cry Of The Sedge 5/15/2001
111. He Mourns For The Change That Has Come Upon Him And His Beloved, And Longs For The End Of The World 5/15/2001
112. He Remembers Forgotten Beauty 1/3/2003
113. He Reproves The Curlew 5/15/2001
114. He Tells Of A Valley Full Of Lovers 5/15/2001
115. He Tells Of The Perfect Beauty 5/15/2001
116. He Thinks Of His Past Greatness When A Part Of The Constellations Of Heaven 5/15/2001
117. He Thinks Of Those Who Have Spoken Evil Of His Beloved 5/15/2001
118. He Wishes For The Cloths Of Heaven 5/15/2001
119. He Wishes His Beloved Were Dead 5/15/2001
120. Her Anxiety 1/3/2003
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:

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