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William Butler Yeats 1865 - 1939

William Butler Yeats 1865 - 1939. The Lake Isle of Innisfree I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree , And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made: Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee; And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

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William Butler Yeats 1865 - 1939

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  1. William Butler Yeats1865 - 1939

  2. The Lake Isle of Innisfree I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree, And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made: Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee; And live alone in the bee-loud glade. And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow, Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings; There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow, And evening full of the linnet's wings. I will arise and go now, for always night and day I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore; While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey, I hear it in the deep heart's core.

  3. An Irish Airman Foresees His Death I know that I shall meet my fate Somewhere among the clouds above; Those that I fight I do not hate, Those that I guard I do not love; My country is Kiltartan Cross, My countrymen Kiltartan's poor, No likely end could bring them loss Or leave them happier than before. Nor law, nor duty bade me fight, Nor public men, nor cheering crowds, A lonely impulse of delight Drove to this tumult in the clouds; I balanced all, brought all to mind, The years to come seemed waste of breath, A waste of breath the years behind In balance with this life, this death.

  4. A Cradle Song THE angels are stooping Above your bed; They weary of trooping With the whimpering dead. God's laughing in Heaven To see you so good; The Sailing Seven Are gay with His mood. I sigh that kiss you, For I must own That I shall miss you When you have grown.

  5. A Dream Of Death I DREAMED that one had died in a strange place Near no accustomed hand, And they had nailed the boards above her face, The peasants of that land, Wondering to lay her in that solitude, And raised above her mound A cross they had made out of two bits of wood, And planted cypress round; And left her to the indifferent stars above Until I carved these words: She was more beautiful than thy first love, But now lies under boards.

  6. A Drinking Song WINE comes in at the mouth And love comes in at the eye; That's all we shall know for truth Before we grow old and die. I lift the glass to my mouth, I look at you, and I sigh.

  7. Easter, 1916 ByWilliamButlerYeats I havemetthematcloseofday Comingwithvividfaces Fromcounterordeskamonggrey Eighteenth-centuryhouses. I havepassedwith a nodofthehead Orpolitemeaninglesswords, Orhavelingeredawhileandsaid Politemeaninglesswords, Andthoughtbefore I haddone Of a mockingtaleor a gibe Toplease a companion Aroundthefireattheclub, Beingcertainthattheyand I Butlivedwheremotleyisworn: Allchanged, changedutterly: A terriblebeautyisborn.

  8. Thatwoman'sdayswerespent Inignorantgood-will, Hernightsinargument Untilhervoicegrewshrill. Whatvoicemoresweetthanhers When, youngandbeautiful, Sherodetoharriers? Thismanhadkept a school Androdeourwingèdhorse; Thisotherhishelperandfriend Wascomingintohisforce; Hemighthavewonfameintheend, Sosensitivehisnatureseemed, Sodaringandsweethisthought. Thisotherman I haddreamed A drunken, vaingloriouslout. Hehaddonemostbitterwrong Tosomewhoarenearmyheart, Yet I numberhiminthesong; He, too, hasresignedhispart Inthecasualcomedy; He, too, hasbeenchangedinhisturn, Transformedutterly: A terriblebeautyisborn.

  9. Heartswithonepurposealone Throughsummerandwinterseem Enchantedto a stone Totroublethelivingstream. Thehorsethatcomesfromtheroad, Therider, thebirdsthatrange Fromcloudtotumblingcloud, Minutebyminutetheychange; A shadowofcloudonthestream Changesminutebyminute; A horse-hoofslidesonthebrim, And a horseplasheswithinit; Thelong-leggedmoor-hensdive, Andhenstomoor-cockscall; Minutebyminutetheylive: Thestone'sinthemidstofall.

  10. Toolong a sacrifice Canmake a stoneoftheheart. O whenmayitsuffice? ThatisHeaven'spart, ourpart Tomurmurnameuponname, As a mothernamesherchild Whensleepatlasthascome Onlimbsthathadrunwild. Whatisitbutnightfall? No, no, notnightbutdeath; Wasitneedlessdeathafterall? ForEnglandmaykeepfaith Forallthatisdoneandsaid. Weknowtheirdream; enough Toknowtheydreamedandaredead; Andwhatifexcessoflove Bewilderedthemtilltheydied? I writeitoutin a verse— MacDonaghandMacBride AndConnollyandPearse Nowandintimetobe, Wherevergreenisworn, Arechanged, changedutterly: A terriblebeautyisborn.

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