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W. B. Yeats

Though I am old with wandering Through hollow lands and hilly lands, I will find out where she has gone, And kiss her lips and take her hands; And walk among long dappled grass, And pluck till time and times are done The silver apples of the moon, The golden apples of the sun. — … Continue reading W. B. Yeats

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British Culture · British Literature · Classic · Collection · Excerpt · Irish Culture · Irish Literary Renaissance · Irish Literary Revival · Irish Literature · Passage · Poetry · Romanticism · Symbolism

W. B. Yeats

Some moralist or mythological poet Compares the solitary soul to a swan; I am satisfied with that, Satisfied if a troubled mirror show it, Before that brief gleam of its life be gone, An image of its state; The wings half spread for flight, The breast thrust out in pride Whether to play, or to… Continue reading W. B. Yeats

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Anthology · British Culture · British Literature · Classic · Collection · Excerpt · Irish Culture · Irish Literary Renaissance · Irish Literary Revival · Irish Literature · Passage · Poetry · Romanticism · Symbolism

W. B. Yeats

Does the imagination dwell the most Upon a woman won or woman lost? If on the lost, admit you turned aside From a great labyrinth out of pride, … some silly over-subltle thought Or anything called conscience once; And that if memory recur, the sun’s Under eclipse and the day blotted out. — W. B.… Continue reading W. B. Yeats

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Anthology · British Culture · British Literature · Classic · Collection · Irish Culture · Irish Literary Renaissance · Irish Literary Revival · Irish Literature · Poetry · Romanticism · Symbolism

W. B. Yeats

Now as at all times I can see in the mind’s eye, In their stiff, painted clothes, the pale unsatisfied ones Appear and disappear in the blue depths of the sky With all their ancient faces like rain-beaten stones, And all their helms of silver hovering side by side, And all their eyes still fixed,… Continue reading W. B. Yeats

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W. B. Yeats

Others because you did not keep That deep-sworn vow have been friends of mine; Yet always when I look death in the face, When I clamber to the heights of sleep, Or when I grow excited with wine, Suddenly I meet your face. —  W. B. Yeats, from “A Deep Sworn Vow,” The Wild Swans… Continue reading W. B. Yeats

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W. B. Yeats

I broke my heart in two So hard I struck. What matter? for I know That out of rock, Out of a desolate source, Love leaps upon its course. — W. B. Yeats, from “His Confidence” in “Words for Music Perhaps,” The Winding Stair and Other Poems (Macmillan, 1933)

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