SYNGE AND THE IRELAND OF HIS TIME BY WILLIAM BUTLER YEATSWITH A NOTE CONCERNING A WALK THROUGH CONNEMARA WITH HIM BY JACK BUTLER YEATS PREFACE At times during Synge’s last illness, Lady Gregory and I would speak of his work and always find some pleasure in the thought that unlike ourselves, who had made our […]

I had this thought awhile ago,“My darling cannot understandWhat I have done, or what would doIn this blind bitter land.” And I grew weary of the sunUntil my thoughts cleared up again,Remembering that the best I have doneWas done to make it plain; That every year I have cried, “At lengthMy darling understands it all,Because […]

She lived in storm and strife.Her soul had such desireFor what proud death may bringThat it could not endureThe common good of life,But lived as ’twere a kingThat packed his marriage dayWith banneret and pennon,Trumpet and kettledrum,And the outrageous cannon,To bundle Time awayThat the night come.

If any man drew nearWhen I was young,I thought, “He holds her dear,”And shook with hate and fear.But oh, ’twas bitter wrongIf he could pass her byWith an indifferent eye. Whereon I wrote and wrought,And now, being gray,I dream that I have broughtTo such a pitch my thoughtThat coming time can say,“He shadowed in a […]

The fascination of what’s difficultHas dried the sap out of my veins, and rentSpontaneous joy and natural contentOut of my heart. There’s something ails our coltThat must, as if it had not holy blood,Nor on an Olympus leaped from cloud to cloud,Shiver under the lash, strain, sweat and joltAs though it dragged road metal. My […]

O heart, be at peace, becauseNor knave nor dolt can breakWhat’s not for their applause,Being for a woman’s sake.Enough if the work has seemed,So did she your strength renew,A dream that a lion had dreamedTill the wilderness cried aloud,A secret between you two,Between the proud and the proud. What, still you would have their praise!But […]

Suddenly I saw the cold and rook delighting HeavenThat seemed as though ice burned and was but the more ice,And thereupon imagination and heart were drivenSo wild, that every casual thought of that and thisVanished, and left but memories, that should be out of seasonWith the hot blood of youth, of love crossed long ago;And […]

“Would it were anything but merely voice!”The No King cried who after that was King,Because he had not heard of anythingThat balanced with a word is more than noise;Yet Old Romance being kind, let him prevailSomewhere or somehow that I have forgot,Though he’d but cannon–Whereas we that had thoughtTo have lit upon as clean and […]

Why should I blame her that she filled my daysWith misery, or that she would of lateHave taught to ignorant men most violent ways,Or hurled the little streets upon the great,Had they but courage equal to desire?What could have made her peaceful with a mindThat nobleness made simple as a fire,With beauty like a tightened […]

How should the world be luckier if this house,Where passion and precision have been oneTime out of mind, became too ruinousTo breed the lidless eye that loves the sun?And the sweet laughing eagle thoughts that growWhere wings have memory of wings, and allThat comes of the best knit to the best? AlthoughMean roof-trees were the […]

“Put off that mask of burning goldWith emerald eyes.”“O no, my dear, you make so boldTo find if hearts be wild and wise,And yet not cold.” “I would but find what’s there to find,Love or deceit.”“It was the mask engaged your mind,And after set your heart to beat,Not what’s behind.” “But lest you are my […]

Once, when midnight smote the air,Eunuchs ran through Hell and metRound about Hell’s gate, to stareAt great Juan riding by,And like these to rail and sweat,Maddened by that sinewy thigh.

To a Poet, Who Would Have Me Praise Certain Bad Poets, Imitators of His and Mine. You say, as I have often given tongueIn praise of what another’s said or sung,‘Twere politic to do the like by these;But where’s the wild dog that has praised his fleas?

On Hearing That the Students of Our New University Have Joined the Ancient Order of Hibernians and the Agitation Against Immoral Literature. Where, where but here have Pride and Truth,That long to give themselves for wage,To shake their wicked sides at youthRestraining reckless middle-age.

Though leaves are many, the root is one;Through all the lying days of my youthI swayed my leaves and flowers in the sun;Now I may wither into the truth.

Wine comes in at the mouthAnd love comes in at the eye;That’s all we shall know for truthBefore we grow old and die.I lift the glass to my mouth,I look at you, and I sigh.

I have heard the pigeons of the Seven WoodsMake their faint thunder, and the garden beesHum in the lime tree flowers; and put awayThe unavailing outcries and the old bitternessThat empty the heart. I have forgot awhileTara uprooted, and new commonnessUpon the throne and crying about the streetsAnd hanging its paper flowers from post to […]

I whispered, “I am too young,”And then, “I am old enough,”Wherefore I threw a pennyTo find out if I might love;“Go and love, go and love, young man,If the lady be young and fair,”Ah, penny, brown penny, brown penny,I am looped in the loops of her hair. Oh love is the crooked thing,There is nobody […]

All things can tempt me from this craft of verse:One time it was a woman’s face, or worse–The seeming needs of my fool-driven land;Now nothing but comes readier to the handThan this accustomed toil. When I was young,I had not given a penny for a songDid not the poet sing it with such airsThat one […]

Sickness brought me thisThought, in that scale of his:Why should I be dismayedThough flame had burned the wholeWorld, as it were a coal,Now I have seen it weighedAgainst a soul?