William Butler Yeats

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

William Butler Yeats Poems

321. The Spirit Medium 5/17/2001
322. The Spur 5/17/2001
323. The Statesman's Holiday 5/17/2001
324. The Statues 5/17/2001
325. The Stolen Child 5/17/2001
326. The Three Beggars 12/31/2002
327. The Three Bushes 5/17/2001
328. The Three Hermits 5/17/2001
329. The Three Monuments 5/17/2001
330. The Tower 5/17/2001
331. The Travail Of Passion 5/17/2001
332. The Two Kings 5/17/2001
333. The Two Trees 5/17/2001
334. The Unappeasable Host 5/17/2001
335. The Valley Of The Black Pig 1/3/2003
336. The Valleys Of The Black Pig 5/17/2001
337. The Wanderings Of Oisin: Book I 1/3/2003
338. The Wanderings Of Oisin: Book Ii 1/3/2003
339. The Wanderings Of Oisin: Book Iii 1/3/2003
340. The Wheel 5/17/2001
341. The White Birds 5/17/2001
342. The Wild Old Wicked Man 5/17/2001
343. The Wild Swans At Coole 5/17/2001
344. The Winding Stair 1/1/2004
345. The Winding Stair And Other Poems 5/17/2001
346. The Witch 5/17/2001
347. The Withering Of The Boughs 5/17/2001
348. These Are The Clouds 5/17/2001
349. Those Dancing Days Are Gone 1/13/2003
350. Those Images 5/17/2001
351. Three Marching Songs 5/17/2001
352. Three Movements 5/17/2001
353. Three Songs To The One Burden 5/17/2001
354. Three Songs To The Same Tune 5/17/2001
355. Three Things 1/13/2003
356. To A Child Dancing In The Wind 5/17/2001
357. To A Friend Whose Work Has Come To Nothing 5/17/2001
358. To A Poet, Who Would Have Me Praise Certain Bad Poets, Imitators Of His And Mine 5/17/2001
359. To A Shade 5/17/2001
360. To A Squirrel At Kyle-Na-No 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

Consolation

O but there is wisdom
In what the sages said;
But stretch that body for a while
And lay down that head
Till I have told the sages
Where man is comforted.

How could passion run so deep
Had I never thought
That the crime of being born
Blackens all our lot?
But where the crime's committed
The crime can be forgot.

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