William Butler Yeats

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

William Butler Yeats Poems

161. News For The Delphic Oracle 5/15/2001
162. Nineteen Hundred And Nineteen 5/15/2001
163. No Second Troy 5/15/2001
164. O Do Not Love Too Long 5/15/2001
165. Oil And Blood 5/15/2001
166. Old Memory 5/15/2001
167. Old Tom Again 1/13/2003
168. On A Picture Of A Black Centaur By Edmund Dulac 5/15/2001
169. On A Political Prisoner 5/15/2001
170. On Being Asked For A War Poem 5/15/2001
171. On Hearing That The Students Of Our New University Have Joined The Agitation Against Immoral Literature 1/1/2004
172. On Those That Hated 'The Playboy Of The Western World' 5/15/2001
173. On Those That Hated The 'Playboy Of The Western World,' 1907 1/13/2003
174. On Woman 5/15/2001
175. Owen Aherne And His Dancers 5/15/2001
176. Parnell 5/15/2001
177. Parnell's Funeral 1/13/2003
178. Parting 1/13/2003
179. Paudeen 5/15/2001
180. Peace 5/15/2001
181. Politics 5/15/2001
182. Presences 5/15/2001
183. Quarrel In Old Age 5/15/2001
184. Reconciliation 5/15/2001
185. Red Hanrahan's Song About Ireland 5/15/2001
186. Remorse For Intemperate Speech 5/15/2001
187. Responsibilities - Closing 1/13/2003
188. Responsibilities - Introduction 1/13/2003
189. Running To Paradise 5/15/2001
190. Sailing To Byzantium 5/16/2001
191. September 5/16/2001
192. Shepherd And Goatheard 5/16/2001
193. Shepherd And Goatherd 1/13/2003
194. Sixteen Dead Men 5/16/2001
195. Slim Adolescence That A Nymph Has Stripped 5/16/2001
196. Slim Adolescence That A Nymph Has Stripped, 12/31/2002
197. Solomon And The Witch 5/16/2001
198. Solomon To Sheba 5/16/2001
199. Spilt Milk 5/16/2001
200. Statistics 5/16/2001
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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