William Butler Yeats Poems

That is no country for old men. The young
In one another's arms, birds in the trees
---Those dying generations---at their song,
The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas,
...

Others because you did not keep
That deep-sworn vow have been friends of mine;
Yet always when I look death in the face,
...

I WHISPERED, 'I am too young,'
And then, 'I am old enough';
Wherefore I threw a penny
To find out if I might love.
...

Old fathers, great-grandfathers,
Rise as kindred should.
If ever lover's loneliness
Came where you stood,
...

My Soul: I summon to the winding ancient stair;
Set all your mind upon the steep ascent,
Upon the broken, crumbling battlement,
Upon the breathless starlit air,
...

COME swish around, my pretty punk,
And keep me dancing still
That I may stay a sober man
Although I drink my fill.
...

THE angels are stooping
Above your bed;
They weary of trooping
With the whimpering dead.
...

MUCH did I rage when young,
Being by the world oppressed,
But now with flattering tongue
It speeds the parting guest.
...

HERE at right of the entrance this bronze head,
Human, superhuman, a bird's round eye,
Everything else withered and mummy-dead.
...

Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
...