William Butler Yeats

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

William Butler Yeats Poems

1. Tom At Cruachan 1/13/2003
2. Two Songs Rewritten For The Tune's Sake 5/17/2001
3. The Three Monuments 5/17/2001
4. 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
5. Three Songs To The Same Tune 5/17/2001
6. The Statesman's Holiday 5/17/2001
7. The Spirit Medium 5/17/2001
8. Tom O'Roughley 5/17/2001
9. The Death of Cuchulain 6/13/2015
10. The Poet Pleads With The Elemental Powers 5/17/2001
11. Under Saturn 5/17/2001
12. The Gift Of Harun Al-Rashid 5/17/2001
13. The Old Age Of Queen Maeve 5/17/2001
14. The Seven Sages 5/17/2001
15. The Three Hermits 5/17/2001
16. Those Images 5/17/2001
17. The Lover Speaks To The Hearers Of His Songs In Coming Days 5/17/2001
18. To A Wealthy Man Who Promised A Second Subscription To The Dublin Municipal Gallery If It Were 1/1/2004
19. To A Shade 5/17/2001
20. Under The Round Tower 5/17/2001
21. To A Poet, Who Would Have Me Praise Certain Bad Poets, Imitators Of His And Mine 5/17/2001
22. The Wanderings Of Oisin: Book Ii 1/3/2003
23. The People 5/17/2001
24. The Madness Of King Goll 5/17/2001
25. Towards Break Of Day 5/17/2001
26. Veronica's Napkin 5/17/2001
27. The Mountain Tomb 5/17/2001
28. The Lady's Second Song 5/17/2001
29. The Ragged Wood 5/17/2001
30. To Dorothy Wellesley 5/17/2001
31. The Spur 5/17/2001
32. These Are The Clouds 5/17/2001
33. The Nineteenth Century And After 5/17/2001
34. The Realists 5/17/2001
35. To Songs Of A Fool 5/17/2001
36. The Three Beggars 12/31/2002
37. The Wanderings Of Oisin: Book I 1/3/2003
38. The Two Kings 5/17/2001
39. The Wanderings Of Oisin: Book Iii 1/3/2003
40. The Indian To His Love 5/17/2001
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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