William Butler Yeats

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

William Butler Yeats Poems

361. A Man Young And Old 5/15/2001
362. The Stolen Child 5/17/2001
363. A Man Young And Old: Iii. The Mermaid 1/13/2003
364. Among School Children 5/15/2001
365. An Acre Of Grass 5/15/2001
366. A Friend's Illness 5/15/2001
367. The Sorrow Of Love 5/17/2001
368. Never Give All The Heart 5/15/2001
369. Leda And The Swan 5/15/2001
370. Before The World Was Made 1/13/2003
371. Politics 5/15/2001
372. After Long Silence 1/3/2003
373. A Prayer For My Daughter 5/15/2001
374. A Bronze Head 5/15/2001
375. Byzantium 5/15/2001
376. Easter, 1916 1/13/2003
377. A Last Confession 1/13/2003
378. The Song Of Wandering Aengus 5/17/2001
379. A Man Young And Old: I. First Love 1/13/2003
380. A First Confession 1/13/2003
381. Aedh Wishes For The Cloths Of Heaven 1/3/2003
382. Love's Loneliness 1/13/2003
383. A Drunken Man's Praise Of Sobriety 5/15/2001
384. Youth And Age 5/17/2001
385. A Deep-Sworn Vow 5/15/2001
386. A Cradle Song 5/15/2001
387. A Dialogue Of Self And Soul 5/15/2001
388. A Dream Of Death 5/15/2001
389. Sailing To Byzantium 5/16/2001
390. A Faery Song 5/15/2001
391. Brown Penny 5/15/2001
392. An Irish Airman Forsees His Death 5/15/2001
393. The Lake Isle Of Innisfree 5/17/2001
394. A Coat 5/15/2001
395. The Second Coming 5/17/2001
396. A Crazed Girl 5/15/2001
397. A Drinking Song 5/15/2001
398. He Wishes For The Cloths Of Heaven 5/15/2001
399. When You Are Old 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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