Download
1 / 7
90 likes | 362 Views
William Butler Yeats. Mad Ireland hurt you into poetry. --WH Auden In Memory of Yeats. Yeats. 1965~1939 Ireland Nobel Prize for Literature in 1923. "for his always inspired poetry, which in a highly artistic form gives expression to the spirit of a whole nation". Yeats in Love.
E N D
William Butler Yeats Mad Ireland hurt you into poetry. --WH Auden In Memory of Yeats
Yeats • 1965~1939 • Ireland • Nobel Prize for Literature in 1923. • "for his always inspired poetry, which in a highly artistic form gives expression to the spirit of a whole nation"
Yeats in Love • Maud Gonne • “but saw a girl with the walk of a queen.” --Cathleen ni Houlihan • "You make beautiful poetry out of what you call your unhappiness,and you are happy in that. The world should thank you for not marrying me."
But I, being poor, have only my dreams; I have spread my dreams under your feet; Tread softly because you tread on my dreams. --1899 He wishes for the cloths of heaven • What could have made her peaceful with a mindThat nobleness made simple as a fire,With beauty like a tightened bow, a kindThat is not natural in an age like this,Being high and solitary and most stern?Why, what could she have done, being what she is?Was there another Troy for her to burn? --1910 No Second troy
Long-Legged Fly • That civilization may not sink, • Its great battle lost, • Quiet the dog, tether the pony • To a distant post; • Our master Caesar is in the tent • Where the maps are spread, • His eyes fixed upon nothing, • A hand upon his head. • Like a long-legged fly upon the stream • His mind moves upon silence.
Long-Legged Fly • That the topless towers be burnt • And men recall that face, • Move most gently if move you must • In this lonely place. • She thinks, part woman, three parts a child, • That nobody looks; her feet • Practice a tinker shuffle • Picked up on a street. • Like a long-legged fly upon the stream • Her mind moves upon silence.
Long-Legged Fly • That girls at puberty may find • The first Adam in their thought, • Shut the door of the Pope's chapel, • Keep those children out. • There on that scaffolding resides • Michael Angelo. • With no more sound than the mice make • His hand moves to and fro. • Like a long-legged fly upon the stream • His mind moves upon silence.
