¡¶Selected Poems of W. B. Yeats¡·


 When You Are Old

    hen you are old and grey and full of sleep,

    And nodding by take dohis book,

    And slo look

    Your eyes heir shadows deep;

    s of glad grace,

    And loved your beauty rue,

    But one man loved the pilgrim Soul in you,

    And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

    And bending dohe glowing bars,

    Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled

    And paced upon tains overhead

    And ars.

 What Was Lost

I SING  and dread w was won,

    I tle fought over again,

    My king a lost king, and lost soldiers my men;

    Feet to tting may run,

    t on tone.

 The Two Trees

    BELOVED, gaze in t,

    tree is grohere;

    From joy tart,

    And all trembling flohey bear.

    ts fruit

    ars ry light;

    ty of its

    ed quiet in t;

    ts leafy head

    heir melody,

    And made my lips and music wed,

    Murmuring a hee.

    the Joves a circle go,

    the flaming circle of our days,

    Gyring, spiring to and fro

    In t ignorant leafy ways;

    Remembering all t shaken hair

    And ,

    tender care:

    Beloved, gaze in t.

    Gaze no more in tter glass

    tle guile.

    Lift up before us whey pass,

    Or only gaze a little while;

    For tal image grows

    t tormy night receives,

    Roots half hidden under snows,

    Broken boughs and blackened leaves.

    For ill turn to barrenness

    In the demons hold,

    ter weariness,

    Made imes of old.

    the broken branches, go

    ting t;

    Flying, crying, to and fro,

    Cruel claw and ,

    Or else tand and sniff the wind,

    And sheir ragged wings; alas!

    tender eyes grow all unkind:

    Gaze no more in tter glass.

 Towards Break Of Day

    AS it the double of my dream

    t by me lay

    Dreamed, or did we halve a dream

    Under t cold gleam of day?

    I t: quot;terfall

    Upon Ben Bulben side

    t all my ced dear;

    ere I to travel far and wide

    I could not find a thing so dear.

    My memories had magnified

    So many times c.

    I would ouc like a child

    But kne ouched

    Cold stone and er. I grew wild.

    Even accusing heaven because

    It  dos laws:

    Not we love over-much

    Is ponderable to our touch.

    I dreamed towards break of day,

    tril.

    But s beside me lay

    cterer sleep

    tag of Arthur,

    t lofty ag, leap

    From mountain steep to steep.

 To The Rose Upon The Rood Of Time

    Red Rose, proud Rose, sad Rose of all my days!

    Come near me, w ways:

    Cuctling ter tide;

    tured, quiet-eyed,

    round Fergus dreams, and ruin untold;

    And tars, grown old

    In dancing silver-sandalled on the sea,

    Sing in their high and lonely melody.

    Come near, t no more blinded e,

    I find under te,

    In all poor foolis live a day,

    Eternal beauty wandering on her way.

    Come near, come near, come near - Aill

    A little space for to fill!

    Lest I no more bear common t crave;

    ts small cave,

    the grass,

    And al  toil and pass;

    But seek alone to range things said

    By God to t s of those long dead,

    And learn to c a tongue men do not know.

    Come near; I ime to go,

    Sing of old Eire and t ways:

    Red Rose, proud Rose, sad Rose of all my days.

 To A Young Girl

MY dear, my dear, I know

    More ther

    makes your  beat so;

    Can kno as I know,

    Not even your oher

    ,

    t she denies

    And ,

    for her

    And glittered in her eyes.

 To A Young Beauty

    DEAR felloist, why so free

    it of company,

    ith every Jack and Jill?

    C;

    Soon topples dohe hill.

    You may, t mirror for a school,

    Be passionate, not bountiful

    As common beauties may,

    born to keep in trim

    ith old Ezekiels cherubim

    But t.

    I knoy gives,

    vant lives,

    Yet praise ters gone:

    t a fool can call me friend,

    And I may dine at journeys end

    ith Donne.

 The Wisdom Of The King

    the Island of

    oods h, and her

    c to nurse, h a woman who

    lived in a  of mud and hin

    t the

    rocking the cradle, and pondering

    over ty of the child, and praying

    t t grant him wisdom

    equal to y. there came a knock

    at t up, not a little

    neighbours were

    in the high-King a mile away;

    and t e. ho is

    knocking? shin voice

    anshe

    grey he darkness

    of t error she drew

    back t, and a grey-clad woman, of

    a great age, and of a  more than

    ood by the head of

    t

    to take he

    woman, for she

    firelig the grey hawk

    were upon ead of

    t, and the

    one oo ignorant and too full

    of gaiety to know w a dreadful being

    stood ther voice,

    ~ for I am a crone of the grey hawk, and I

    c in the

    great he door

    again, though her fingers could scarce hold

    ts for trembling, and another grey

    less old ther, and

    ead of hair, came in

    and stood by t. In a little, came a

    ter h,

    and ther,

    until t heir immense

    forms. tood a long time in

    perfect silence and stillness, for they were

    of the sand

    roubled, but at last one muttered

    in a loers, I knew him

    far a under

    her spoke:

    Sisters, I knew

    fluttered like a bird under a net of silver

    cords; and took up the

    ers, I knew him because his

    sang like a bird t ten

    ter t they Bang

    toget rocking

    th long wrinkled fingers; and

    tender and caressing,

    nohe

    great heir song:

    Out of sig of mind:

    Long have man and woman-kind

    of mood,

    taken away our wen food,

    taken aar stone;

    hunder alone,

    And red s urn to grey,

    Are true till time gutter away.

    , the crone

    hing now

    remains but t a drop of our blood be

    mixed into ched

    of a spindle,

    wo

    a drop of blood, grey as the

    mist, fall upon the child; and

    passed out into the

    ot in silence one by one;

    and all t opened

    o dance,

    for too ignorant, and ther

    too full of gaiety to knohe

    beings   over a cradle.

    he nurse

    came to o

    t

    in t of t the

    Sher for good or evil she knew

    not,  over t night;

    and ts and men of law,

    and s men, and his cook, and his

    c o t and

    gat the cradle, and were as

    noisy as magpies, and t up and

    looked at them.

    the king

    died fig the Bag;

    and ts and the men of law ruled in

    t looked to see

    er himself before

    long, for no one had seen so wise a

    cales of ions

    about the

    making of t her and

    the

    poor. I~vcryt

    for a miracle t began to trouble all

    men; and all women, walked

    of it  ceasing. the

    grey o grohe childs

    them con-

    tinually, it needed but a little while and

    this

    been a matter of great moment,

    for miracles tle those

    days, but for an ancient la

    none who had any blemish of body could

    sit upon throne; and as a grey hawk

    he air which had

    never sat at tened to the

    songs of ts in t of the fire,

    it  possible to think of one in whose

    s feathan marred

    and blasted; nor could te

    from tion of t

    grew in  one of unhuman

    blood. Yet all  he

    shey had suffered much

    from foolisheir own disorders,

    and moreover to c

    tacle of his days; and no one had

    any ot t  wisdom

    mighe law, and call Eocha

    of towers, w a

    common mind, to reign in ead.

    he child was seven years old

    ts and the men of law were called

    toget, and all these

    matters weighe

    c t

    hey had

    told  too hers

    but  them because of a sin com-

    mitted by t

    ruth when he began

    to o try round about.

    After mucion they decreed a

    new law commanding every one upon pain

    of deato mingle by a subtlety of art the

    feato his hair;

    and t men s and slings,

    for as yet t invented, into

    tries round about to gather a suf-

    ficiency of feathey decreed also

    t any ruto the child

    so the sea.

    the child grew

    from co boyhood and from

    boyo manhood, and from being

    curious about all things he became busy

    range and subtle ts which

    came to h dis-

    tinctions bethe

    same and hings

    long . Multitudes came from

    oto sec o ask his

    counsel~ but t at the

    frontiers~ w came,

    to he grey hawk

    in tened to him

    o make all darkness

    ligs like music;

    but, alas, o their own

    lands

    too strange and

    subtle to o live out ty

    days. A number indeed did live differ-

    ently after their new life was

    less excellent the old: some among

    t

    heir

    labour, turned to their own lands

    to find hey had loved less lovable

    and ter in ttle, for

    augtle a hair

    divides true; others again,

    in

    peace their own households,

    whe meaning of

    ter and

    toil, for he had

    ser purposes; and numbers

    of they had heard him

    upon all tain

    became like a fire in their

    s, and made all kindly joys and traffic

    bet

    different  all into vague regret.

    he

    common tes about the

    mear of a territory, or about traying

    of cattle, or about ty of blood;

    urn to t him for

    advice; but to be from

    courtesy, for none kne tters

    were s and

    dreams t filled he

    marcer-marching of armies.

    Far less could any kno

    amid throngs of overcoming

    ts and dreams, s its

    oude.

    among to look at him

    and to listen to er of a

    little king w way off; and

    when he saw her he loved, for shc was

    beautiful~ range and pale beauty

    unlike t Dana,

    t mot

    t  as t of others, and

    he

    roubled h a

    great o him when

    told her of

    y, and praised her simply and

    frankly as the

    bards; and o give

    le in his

    dreams. Overwness,

    sed, and yet half refused,

    for so marry some warrior who

    could carry ain in his

    arms. Day by day the king gave her

    gifts; cups h ears of gold and find-

    rinny ant

    lands; clothough

    o her

    less beautiful t cloth woven

    in till she was

    ever between

    yielding and hholding. he laid down

    , and told he

    urn to the world

    and begin the

    kind and mirthful Children of Dana drove

    out the huge and gloomy and misshapen

    People from under the

    great Moods arc alonc immortal, and the;

    creators of mortal things; and how every

    Mood is a being t o mortal eyes,

    the shape of Fair-brows, who dwells, as a

    salmon, in the Dagda,

    wy; or of Lir,

    wers; or

    of Angus, wo

    birds; or of Len, th, from

    whose furnace break rainbows and fiery

    dehe children of

    ~)ana: and still sill

    believe t a

    beauty so much like wisdom could hide a

    common .

    ~ tall young man in the

    dun who had yellow hair, and was skilled

    in ling and in training of horses;

    and one day whe king walked in

    the foss

    and t, he heard his voice among

    ters

    of t said,  I

    e these

    dingy feato your beautiful hair, and

    all t throne

    may sleep easy o nighe

    low, musical voice he loved answered:

    My  beautiful like yours; and

    no I hers

    I  my , thus, and

    t casts no shadow of

    terror and darkness upon my . then

    t

    ten  understanding

    tful words of s and his

    men of las t he had reasoned

    aude; and he

    called to rembling

    voice. the salley

    bus

    and prayed for pardon, and ooped

    do of the

    urned away

    to a word. he

    strode into the hall of assembly, and

    s and his men

    of la ood upon the dais

    and spoke in a loud, clear voice:  Men

    of law, w

    the laws of Eri ? Men of verse, why did

    you make me sin against the sccrecy

    of wisdom, for law was made by man

    for t he

    gods have made, and no man shall live by

    its lig and the rain

    and t is deadly

    to mortal things. Men of law and men of

    verse, live according to your kind, and call

    Eocoo reign

    over you, for I set out to find my kindred.

    hem, and

    dre of t one and then

    anothe grey hawk,

    and, tered the rushes

    upon t, and none dared

    to follow him, for his eyes gleamed like

    the birds of prey; and no man

    saw him again or heard his voice. Some

    believed t ernal abode

    among t

    he dark and dreadful god-

    desses, he pools

    in t cellations

    rising and setting in te

    mirrors.

 The Wild Swans At Coole

    t Coole

    trees are in tumn beauty,

    ths are dry,

    Under tober twiliger

    Mirrors a still sky;

    Upon ter among tones

    Are nine-and-fifty Swans.

    teentumn has come upon me

    Since I first made my count;

    I saw, before I had well finished,

    All suddenly mount

    And scatter w broken rings

    Upon their clamorous wings.

    I  creatures,

    And now my  is sore.

    Alls c t,

    t time on this shore,

    t of their wings above my head,

    trod er tread.

    Unill, lover by lover,

    the cold

    Companionable streams or climb the air;

    ts  grown old;

    Passion or conquest, wander whey will,

    Attend upon till.

    But no on till er,

    Mysterious, beautiful;

    Among w rushey build,

    By w lakes edge or pool

    Delight mens eyes when I awake some day

    to find they have flown away?

 The Wheel

ter-time we call on spring,

    And the spring on summer call,

    And when abounding hedges ring

    Declare t ers best of all;

    And after t thing good

    Because time  come -

    Nor kno urbs our blood

    Is but its longing for tomb.

 The Two Trees

    BELOVED, gaze in t,

    tree is grohere;

    From joy tart,

    And all trembling flohey bear.

    ts fruit

    ars ry light;

    ty of its

    ed quiet in t;

    ts leafy head

    heir melody,

    And made my lips and music wed,

    Murmuring a hee.

    the Joves a circle go,

    the flaming circle of our days,

    Gyring, spiring to and fro

    In t ignorant leafy ways;

    Remembering all t shaken hair

    And ,

    tender care:

    Beloved, gaze in t.

    Gaze no more in tter glass

    tle guile.

    Lift up before us whey pass,

    Or only gaze a little while;

    For tal image grows

    t tormy night receives,

    Roots half hidden under snows,

    Broken boughs and blackened leaves.

    For ill turn to barrenness

    In the demons hold,

    ter weariness,

    Made imes of old.

    the broken branches, go

    ting t;

    Flying, crying, to and fro,

    Cruel claw and ,

    Or else tand and sniff the wind,

    And sheir ragged wings; alas!

    tender eyes grow all unkind:

    Gaze no more in tter glass.

 The Tower

    I

    sy -

    O , O troubled  - ture,

    Decrepit age t ied to me

    As to a dogs tail?

    Never had I more

    Excited, passionate, fantastical

    Imagination, nor an ear and eye

    t more expected the impossible -

    No, not in boyh rod and fly,

    Or the humbler worm, I climbed Ben Bulbens back

    And o spend.

    It seems t I must bid the Muse go pack,

    Co and Plotinus for a friend

    Until imagination, ear and eye,

    Can be content  and deal

    In abstract things; or be derided by

    A sort of battered kettle at the heel.

    II

    I pace upon ttlements and stare

    On tions of a house, or where

    tree, like a sooty finger, starts from th;

    And send imagination forth

    Under the days declining beam, and call

    Images and memories

    From ruin or from ancient trees,

    For I ion of them all.

    Beyond t ridge lived Mrs. French, and once

    ick or sconce

    Lit up the wine.

    A serving-man, t could divine

    t most respected ladys every wish,

    Ran and he garden shears

    Clipped an insolent farmers ears

    And brougtle covered dish.

    Some feill when I was young

    A peasant girl commended by a Song,

    rocky place,

    And praised the colour of her face,

    And er joy in praising her,

    Remembering t, if walked shere,

    Farmers jostled at the fair

    So great a glory did the song confer.

    And certain men, being maddened by those rhymes,

    Or else by toasting imes,

    Rose from table and declared it right

    to test t;

    But took tness of the moon

    For t of day -

    Music s astray -

    And one  bog of Cloone.

    Strange, but the song was blind;

    Yet, now I , I find

    t notrange; tragedy began

    it was a blind man,

    And s betrayed.

    O may t seem

    One inextricable beam,

    For if I triump make men mad.

    And I myself created hanrahan

    And drove he dawn

    From somewtages.

    Caught by an old mans juggleries

    umbled, tumbled, fumbled to and fro

    And  broken knees for hire

    And horrible splendour of desire;

    I t it all out ty years ago:

    Good fellows shuffled cards in an old bawn;

    And  ruffians turn was on

    chumb

    t all but the one card became

    A pack of  a pack of cards,

    And t o a hare.

    here

    And folloures towards -

    O toen w - enough!

    I must recall a man t neither love

    Nor music nor an enemys clipped ear

    Could, he was so harried, cheer;

    A figure t has grown so fabulous

    t a neig to say

    hen he finished his dogs day:

    An ancient bankrupt master of this house.

    Before t ruin came, for centuries,

    Roug-arms, cross-gartered to the knees

    Or sairs,

    And certain men-at-arms there were

    Memory stored,

    Come ing breast

    to break upon a sleepers rest

    on the board.

    As I ion all, come all who can;

    Come old, necessitous. ed man;

    And bring beautys blind rambling celebrant;

    t

    through God-forsaken meadows; Mrs. French,

    Gifted h so fine an ear;

    the man drowned in a bogs mire,

    ry wench.

    Did all old men and women, rich and poor,

    rod upon this door,

    rage

    As I do no old age?

    But I hose eyes

    t are impatient to be gone;

    Go t leave hanrahan,

    For I need all y memories.

    Old lech a love on every wind,

    Bring up out of t deep considering mind

    All t you he grave,

    For it is certain t you have

    Reckoned up every unforeknown, unseeing

    plunge, lured by a softening eye,

    Or by a touch or a sigh,

    Into thers being;

    Does tion d

    Upon a ?

    If on t, admit you turned aside

    From a great labyrint of pride,

    Cole t

    Or anything called conscience once;

    And t if memory recur, the suns

    Under eclipse and tted out.

    III

    It is time t I e my will;

    I canding men

    t climb treams until

    tain leap, and at dawn

    Drop t at the side

    Of dripping stone; I declare

    t my pride,

    t were

    Bound neito Cause nor to State.

    Neito slaves t  on,

    Nor to tyrants t spat,

    ttan

    t gave, to refuse -

    pride, like t of the morn,

    is loose,

    Or t of the fabulous horn,

    Or t of the sudden shower

    reams are dry,

    Or t of the hour

    fix his eye

    Upon a fading gleam,

    Float out upon a long

    Last reactering stream

    And t song.

    And I declare my faith:

    I mock plotinus t

    And cry in platos teeth,

    Deat

    till man made up the whole,

    Made lock, stock and barrel

    Out of ter soul,

    Aye, sun and moon and star, all,

    And furto t

    t, being dead, we rise,

    Dream and so create

    translunar paradise.

    I have prepared my peace

    italian things

    And tones of Greece,

    Poets imaginings

    And memories of love,

    Memories of the words of women,

    All things whereof

    Man makes a superhuman,

    Mirror-resembling dream.

    As at there

    tter and scream,

    And drop twigs layer upon layer.

    ed up,

    t

    On top,

    And so warm .

    I leave both and pride

    to young upstanding men

    Climbing tain-side,

    t under bursting dawn

    they may drop a fly;

    Being of t metal made

    till it was broken by

    tary trade.

    Now shall I make my soul,

    Compelling it to study

    In a learned school

    till the wreck of body,

    Slow decay of blood,

    testy delirium

    Or dull decrepitude,

    Or w worse evil come -

    th

    Of every brilliant eye

    t made a catch - .

    Seem but the sky

    he horizon fades;

    Or a birds sleepy cry

    Among the deepening shades.

 The Three Beggars

    quot;to my feat,

    I ood here from break of day.

    I  found a to eat,

    For only rubbish comes my way.

    Am I to live on lebeen-lone?

    Muttered t.

    quot;For all my pains on lebeen-lone?

    King Guaire walked amid

    the palace-yard and river-side

    And to three old beggars said,

    quot;You t have wandered far and wide

    Can ravel out ws in my head.

    Do men  most,

    Or get t w desire?

    A beggar said, quot;t t

    tire,

    And aut

    Unless desire hem so?

    But Guaire laug t,

    quot;If t be true as it seems true,

    One of you three is a rich man,

    For housand pounds

    asleep, if but he can

    Sleep before t;

    And thereon, merry as a bird

    its, King Guaire

    From river-side and palace-yard

    And left to t.

    quot;And if I win, one beggar said,

    though I am old I shall persuade

    A pretty girl to share my bed;

    t;I srade;

    t;Ill o the course

    Among tlemen,

    And lay it all upon a horse;

    t;I  again:

    A farmer y.

    One to another sighed and cried:

    tant dreams of beggary.

    t idleness o pride,

    Sang teeto noon;

    And wwilig

    the beggars moon

    None closed  eyes but sought

    to keep heir sleep;

    All sed till their anger grew

    And they were whirling in a heap.

    t t through;

    t till the day shone;

    t t day

    And till anot had gone,

    Or if ts stay

    t upon to rail,,

    And wood

    Before to end tale,

    they were commingling lice and blood

    quot;times up, hree

    it eyes upon ared.

    quot;times up, hree

    Fell do and snored.

    `Maybe I s,

    No, said the crane.

    `to my feat

    Ive stood as I one

    And seen t,

    Its certain trout somewhere

    And maybe I sake a trout

    but I do not seem to care.

 The Stolen Child

    he rocky highland

    Of Sleuthe lake,

    there lies a leafy island

    here flapping herons wake

    ter rats;

    ts,

    Full of berrys

    And of reddest stolen cherries.

    Come away, O human child!

    to ters and the wild

    ith a faery, hand in hand,

    For tand.

    glosses

    t,

    Far off by furt Rosses

    e foot it all t,

    eaving olden dances

    Mingling hands and mingling glances

    till taken flight;

    to and fro we leap

    And chy bubbles,

    roubles

    And anxious in its sleep.

    Come away, O human child!

    to ters and the wild

    ith a faery, hand in hand,

    For tand.

    er gushes

    From the hills above Glen-Car,

    In pools among the rushes

    t scare could batar,

    e seek for slumbering trout

    And wheir ears

    Give t dreams;

    Leaning softly out

    From ferns t drop tears

    Over treams.

    Come away, O human child!

    to ters and the wild

    ith a faery, hand in hand,

    For tand.

    Ah us hes going,

    the solemn-eyed:

    he lowing

    Of the warm hillside

    Or ttle on the hob

    Sing peace into ,

    Or see the brown mice bob

    Round and round tmeal c.

    For he human child,

    to ters and the wild

    ith a faery, hand in hand,

    For tand.

 The Song of the Happy Shepherd

    thE woods of Arcady are dead,

    And over is tique joy;

    Of old the world on dreaming fed;

    Grey truted toy;

    Yet still surns less head:

    But O, sick che world,

    Of all things

    In dreary dancing past us whirled,

    to tune t Chronos sings,

    ords alone are certain good.

    he warring kings,

    ord be-mockers? - By the Rood,

    ring kings?

    An idle heir glory,

    By tammering schoolboy said,

    Reading some entangled story:

    time are dead;

    th herself may be

    Only a sudden flaming word,

    In clanging space a moment heard,

    troubling the endless reverie.

    ty deeds,

    Nor seek, for th,

    to er truth,

    Lest all toiling only breeds

    Neruth

    Saving in t. Seek, then,

    No learning from tarry men,

    ic glass

    tars t pass -

    Seek, th,

    No ar-bane

    ts in twain,

    And dead is all truth.

    Go gathe humming sea

    Some ted, echo-harbouring shell.

    And to its lips tory tell,

    And ters will be.

    Rewording in melodious guile

    tful tle while,

    till th

    And die a pearly brotherhood;

    For ain good:

    Sing, th.

    I must be gone: there is a grave

    here daffodil and lily wave,

    And I he hapless faun,

    Buried under the sleepy ground,

    ithe dawn.

    ing days h were crowned;

    And still I dream reads the lawn,

    alking gly in the dew,

    Pierced by my glad singing through,

    My songs of old earth:

    But a nohou!

    For fair are poppies on the brow:

    Dream, dream, for th.

 The Shadowy Waters

    A Dramatic Poem

    t s t of tage is t,

    deal of the sky and sea

    on t side. tiller is at t of tage; it is a long oar

    coming the deck rises in a

    series of steps iller, and tern of the ship curves

    overhe

    deck. Aibric stands by tiller. Forgael sleeps upon the raised

    portion of to of tage. two Sailors

    are standing near to t, on which a harp is hanging.

    First Sailor.  led us into te seas

    For long enough?

    Second Sailor. Aye, long and long enough.

    First Sailor. e  come upon a shore or ship

    these dozen weeks.

    Sccond Sailor. And I  to make

    A good round Sum upon turn -

    For I am getting on in life - to something

    t han robbery.

    First Sailor. I am so tired of being bachelor

    I could give all my  to t Red Moll

    t  the one eye.

    Second Sailor. Can no bec

    transform to women

    t I may drown myself?

    First Sailor. Better steer home,

    ter still

    to take him while he sleeps and carry him

    And drop he gunnel.

    Second Sailor. I dare not do it.

    eret not t there is magic in his harp,

    I  w

    Strange creatures flutter up before ones eyes,

    Or cry about ones ears.

    First Sailor. Noto fear.

    Second Sailor. Do you remember w

    galley

    At the full moon?

    First Sailor. .

    Second Sailor. Until t; and when I looked

    ed, I could see a bird

    Like a grey gull upon t of each.

    hey rose hurriedly,

    And after circling range cries awhile

    Fleime since then

    Ive ling overhe wind.

    First Sailor. I sa night as well as you.

    But wen and drunk myself asleep

    My courage came again.

    Second Sailor. But ts not all.

    t, w,

    A beautiful young man and girl came up

    In a he look

    Of t are alive for ever and ever.

    First Sailor. I saoo, one night. Forgael was

    playing,

    And tening the sail.

    see t I  my hands

    to grasp the woman.

    Second Sailor. You o touch her?

    First Sailor. O s a shadow, and slipped from

    me.

    Second Sailor. But  afraid?

    First Sailor. hy should I fear?

    Second Sailor. quot;the wandering

    lovers,

    to whom all lovers pray.

    First Sailor. But ?

    A s carry sword or spear.

    Second Sailor. My motold me t t one

    Of the Ever-living half so dangerous

    As t wild Aengus. Long before her day

    he carried Edain off from a kings house,

    And s of jeone

    And in a to day

    ed every man ts not in love,

    And o him.

    First Sailor. I have heard

    e seafarers as es

    Peaceable men t s the wind away,

    And keep to the one weary marriage-bed.

    Second Sailor. I t ,

    And drags he sea,

    First Sailor ell, net or none,

    Id dro.

    Second Sailor. Its certain Id sleep easier o nights

    If  wain,

    Judge of tars, and find a course for us?

    First Sailor. Ive t of t. e must have Aibric

    h us,

    For ars as well as Forgael.

    [Going towards Aibric.]

    Become our captain, Aibric. I am resolved

    to make an end of Forgael while he sleeps.

    t a man but

    is over, nor one to grumble at us.

    Aibric. You aken pay and made your bargain for it.

    First Sailor.  good is this hard way of

    living,

    Unless we drain more flagons in a year

    And kiss more lips ting peaceable men

    In troop

    And take tains shing

    And bring us into populous seas again?

    Aibric. Be of your troop! Aibric be one of you

    And Forgael in ther scale! kill Forgael,

    And er from my childhood up!

    If you  s of its scabbard

    Ill give my answer.

    First Sailor. You have awakened him.

    [to Second Sailor.]

    ed better go, for his chance.

    [t.]

    Forgael. he birds passed us? I could hear your

    voice,

    But thers.

    Aibric. I hing pass.

    Forgael. Youre certain of it? I never wake from sleep

    But t I am afraid they may have passed,

    For ts. If I lost them

    Straying too far into th,

    Id never come upon the happiness

    t  seen them

    t t be many

    Dying at every moment in the world,

    And flying toheir peace.

    Aibric. Put by ts,

    And listen to me for a whe sailors

    Are plotting for your death.

    Forgael.  given

    More rico find?

    And no follow, while I seek

    t  my fancy.

    Aibric.  rice sea

    s alive

    those man-headed birds,

    Kno for the worlds end?

    Forgael. he world ends

    t finds

    Miracle, ecstasy, the impossible hope,

    tone under all, the fire of fires,

    ts of the world.

    Aibric. Shadows before now

    ravellers mad for t.

    Forgael. Do you, too, doubt me? heir

    plot?

    Aibric. No, no, do not say t. You kno well

    t I  a  you.

    Forgael. ,

    Being as doubtful?

    Aibric. I er

    too many years to lift a  you.

    Forgael. Maybe it is but natural to doubt me.

    Youve never kno,

    A melanc a cup of wine,

    A lucky battle, or a womans kiss

    Could not amend.

    Aibric. I s enough.

    Forgael. If you will give me all your mind awhile -

    All, all, ttom of the bowl -

    Ill s I am made differently,

    t not but ters,

    s of the world -

    do you call it? - t old promise-breaker,

    tune-teller t comes whispering,

    quot;You will have all you have wished for when you have

    earned

    Land for your c.-

    And w we are no happier,

    Because of t old draughe door,

    Or creaky s the end of all

    ter off the fool,

    t never did a urn? Aibric! Aibric!

    e he Ever-living

    Breathe world

    And t h ivory hands and sigh,

    And find ter ser to taste

    For t brief sighing.

    Aibric. If you had loved some woman -

    Forgael. You say t also? You he voices,

    For t is he shadows -

    Aengus and Edain, te wanderers,

    And all t it must be love

    As t. Nos out;

    For it is love t I am seeking for,

    But of a beautiful, unheard-of kind

    t is not in the world.

    Aibric. And yet the world

    iful o please every man.

    Forgael. But  gets ter the fashion

    quot;Loves in brief longing and deceiving hope

    And bodily tenderness, and finds t even

    t in tion

    o be the giver of all peace,

    Is no more tasting,

    And as soon finished.

    Aibric. All t ever loved

    her way.

    Forgael. Yet never  they

    believed t hand,

    And almost  because t find it.

    Aibric. y years; in middle life

    take a kiss for h,

    And let the dream go by.

    Forgael. Its not a dream,

    But ty t makes our passion

    As a lamp she sun.

    ting for

    Must be substantial somewhere.

    Aibric. I he Druids

    Mutter sucrance.

    It may be t t -

    No mortal can.

    Forgael. Yes; if they give us help.

    Aibric. tting you as t

    t ell his fellows

    t  upon the hills,

    Riding to tle-

    ithe Ever-living.

    Forgael.  if ruth,

    And for a dozen

    Of t more powerful life?

    Aibric, ter.

    seen him lying like a log,

    Or fumbling in a dream about the house?

    And if ster of wild riders,

    S it  t-horse coughing

    t set o the fancy.

    Forgael. All would be well

    Could  give us he dreams,

    And get into t to the sense

    Is s linger chedly

    Among substantial t is dreams

    t lift us to the flowing, changing world

    t t longs for.  is love itself,

    Even t be test of light love,

    But dreams t he world

    to make low laug and drink,

    t but set us sighing? Fellow-wanderer,

    Could  mix ourselves into a dream,

    Not in its image on the mirror!

    Aibric. hile

    ere in ts impossible.

    Forgael. And yet I cannot theyre leading me

    to deat promised to me love

    As t can outlive t,

    otal life gat seemed,

    Into t teachers.

    Aengus and Edain ran up out of the wave -

    Youd never doubt t it hey promised

    o face as I did,

    it,

    And having such wide-open, shining eyes.

    Aibric. Its certain to death.

    None but t never lived,

    Can kno ecstasy. Forgael! Forgael!

    the man-headed birds,

    And you old me t their journey lies

    tory of the dead.

    Forgael.  matter

    If I am going to my deathere,

    Or somewhey have

    promised.

    t mucain. I shall find a woman.

    One of think -

    One of the Laughing People - and she and I

    S upon a place in the worlds core,

    o be a ching,

    Like charmed apples made of chrysoprase,

    Or ce;

    And t and sense,

    Become one movement, energy, delight,

    Until thened moon is dead.

    [A number of Sailors entcr hurriedly.]

    First Sailor. Look t! a ship of spice!

    And  on her!

    Second Sailor. e  known

    But for the ambergris and sandalwood.

    First Sailor. NO; but opoponax and cinnamon.

    Forgael [taking tiller from Aibric]. the Ever-living have

    kept my bargain for me,

    And paid you on the nail.

    Aibric. take up t rope

    to make  while we are plundering her.

    First Sailor. there is a king and queen upon her deck,

    And whers.

    Aibric. Speak loheyll hear.

    First Sailor. t hear;

    too busy her. Look!

    ooped down and kissed he lips.

    Second Sailor.  er men

    aboard

    S be too sorry in the end.

    First Sailor. S; for these queens

    Care more about the kegs of silver and gold

    And t come to them in marriage,

    trong body and a ready hand.

    Second Sailor. tural but a robber,

    And t is ters about

    Upon its bandy legs.

    Aibric. Run at them now,

    And overpo asleep!

    [t.]

    lt;1[Voices and the

    ot be seen because of the sail.]

    A Voice. Armed men have come upon us! O I am slain!

    Another Voice. ake all below!

    Another Voice. hy have you broken our sleep?

    First Voice. Armed men have come upon us! O I am

    slain!

    Forgael [iller]. they

    come! Gull, gannet, or diver,

    But h a mans head, or a fair womans,

    thead awhile

    to  t wheir friends have

    come

    t secret heirs.

    One - and one - a couple - five together;

    And I e.

    Yes, voices! but I do not catche words.

    Now I can  says,

    quot; we are, now we are co birds!

    Anot;Maybe we shall find

    Our s desire no .

    And ther how he died,

    And says, quot;A sword-blade pierced me in my sleep.-

    And nohey all wheel suddenly and fly

    to the air.

    And noh a womans head

    dGmes crying, quot;I he sword.

    I o my beloved in the air,

    In te of t we may wander

    Among the dawn.

    But ing? whey

    Circling and circling over thead?

    po is more mighan desire

    to o their hidden happiness

    ithe Ever-living Ones

    A meaning in t circling overhead?

    But .] hy do you

    linger there?

    o your desire,

    Are you not happy winged bodies now?

    [his voice sinks again.]

    Being too busy in the high air,

    t  he meaning?

    lt;1[turned. Dectora is hem.]

    Forgael [turning and seeing ;1 anding

    h your eyes upon me?

    You are not the worlds core. O no, no, no!

    t cannot be the birds.

    You are not its core. My teethe world,

    But  bitten yet.

    Dectora. I am a queen,

    And ask for satisfaction upon these

    ho have slain my husband and laid hands upon me.

    [Breaking loose from the Sailors who are holding her.]

    Let go my hands!

    Forgael.  a shadow?

    you to this

    place?

    t send me one t casts a shadow.

    Dectora. ould t torm t overthrew my ships,

    And droreasures of nine conquered nations,

    And bleing sorrow,

    , being yet alive,

    I ask a fitting punis for all

    t raised t him.

    Forgael. there are some

    t weige seas -

    t s in life,

    And all t prophesying images

    Made of dim gold rave out in secret tombs;

    t t the plans of kings and queens

    But laugears - lauger, and tears;

    t every man should carry his own soul

    Upon his shoulders.

    Dectora. Youve not wild words,

    And I would know if you will give me vengeance.

    Forgael.  I  let her go -

    .

    Dectora.  is it t you are muttering -

    t youll not let me go? I am a queen.

    Forgael. Altiful than any,

    I almost long t it were possible;

    But if I o put you on t ship,

    it o do your will,

    And you had spread a sail for home, a wind

    ould rise of a sudden, or a wave so huge

    It ars and put t,

    And beat the bulwark of your ship on mine,

    Until you stood before me on the deck -

    As now.

    Dectora. Does e seas

    And listening to the cry of wind and wave

    Bring madness?

    Forgael. Queen, I am not mad.

    Dectora. Yet say

    t unimaginable storms of wind and wave

    ould rise against me.

    Forgael. No, I am not mad -

    If it be not t hearing messages

    From lasting c outlive the moon,

    At t quiet midnigo be stricken.

    Dectora. And did tcake me

    captive?

    Forgael. Botaken in t.

    It  plucked the winds awake

    And blew you hs have

    promised

    I sal fashion;

    And for they gave me my old harp

    t is more mighe sun and moon,

    Or ting-net of tars,

    t none migake you from me.

    lt;1Dectora [first trembling back from t whe harp is,

    and t;1 For a moment

    Your raving of a message and a harp

    More migars roubled me,

    But all ts raving. here can compel

    ter and ter of kings

    to be his bedfellow?

    Forgael. Until your lips

    kiss them.

    Dectora. My  my feet,

    And yet you talk of love.

    Forgael. t of time

    Is s one does

    One moment  upon t

    t folloer.

    Dectora. I understand you now.

    You  of wicked sound

    rung from the sea -

    A magic t can call a demon up,

    Until my body give you kiss for kiss.

    Forgael. Your soul she kiss.

    Dectora. I am not afraid,

    o run into a noose

    Or o dro I h words,

    And I would o my face

    And kno it is fearless.

    Forgael. Do w you will,

    For neither I nor you can break a mesh

    Of t golden net t is about us.

    Dectora. ts h a

    fear.

    lt;1[Sands for a moment looking into

    ;1

    I  t.

    [So t of the poop.]

    And now

    I can put fear away as a queen should.

    lt;1[Ss on to turns towards

    Forgael.]gt;1

    Fool, fool! Alto my face

    You do not see my purpose. I shall have gone

    Before a ouch me.

    Forgael [folding ill;

    t you will,

    You cannot leap out of t.

    First Sailor. No need to drown, for, if you will pardon

    us

    And measure out a course and bring us home,

    ell put to death.

    Dectora. I promise it.

    First Sailor. to take his side.

    Aibric. I am on his side,

    Ill strike a blow for o give ime

    to cast his dreams away.

    lt;1[Aibric goes in front of Forgael h drawn sword. For-

    gael takes t;1

    First Sailor. No ot.

    lt;1[throw Aibric on one side. he falls and lies

    upon t to strike Forgael,gt;1

    lt;1o play tage begins to

    darken. tate in fear.]

    Second Sailor.gt;1  a sudden darkness over the

    moon.

    Dectora. Nine sh handles of rhinoceros horn

    to  strikes !

    First Sailor. I rike .

    lt;1[o Forgael ed.]

    [S t moon out

    of the sky,

    And carries it between us.

    Second Sailor. holy fire

    to burn us to trike.

    Dectora. Ill give a golden galley full of fruit,

    t he heady flavour of new wine,

    to  h.

    First Sailor. Ill do it.

    For all his spells will vanish when he dies,

    heir life in him.

    Second Sailor. t be the moon

    t here,

    I rike at him.

    thers. And I! And I! And I!

    [Forgael plays the harp.]

    First Sailor [falling into a dream suddenly. But you were

    saying there is somebody

    Upon t oto wake.

    You did not know w brougo his end,

    But it was sudden.

    Second Sailor. You are in t;

    I ten t  go wake him.

    Dectora. he air,

    And set you dreaming.

    Second Sailor. how can we have a wake

    her brown nor yellow ale?

    First Sailor. I saw a flagon of brown ale aboard her.

    t do not

    know

    name to call him by?

    First Sailor. Come to his ship.

    o our ts in a minute.

    I kno housand years ago,

    And  yet been waked.

    Second Sailor [beginning to keen]. Ohone! O! O! O!

    to two,

    And all ttered.

    All the Sailors. O! O! O! O!

    [t keening.]

    Dectora. Protect me no my people swear by.

    lt;1[Aibric he deck where he had fallen. he

    ;1

    Aibric.  fell out of my hand

    is!

    lt;1[o Dectora runs at

    it and takes it up before .]gt;1

    Aibric [sleepily]. Queen, give it me.

    Dectora. No, I .

    Aibric.  you may keep it.

    No ,

    For everything is gone.

    A Sailor [calling from ther, Aibric,

    And tell me  we are waking.

    Aibric [o Dectora, o  name had

    t dead king? Artain?

    No, no - not Arthur. I remember now.

    It was golden-armed Iollan, and he died

    Broken-ed,  his queen

    t is not all tale,

    For he was killed. O! O! O! O! O! O!

    For golden-armed Iollan has been killed.

    lt;1[.]

    [ of w

    follows, one he

    otora stands ed in

    front of Forgael.]gt;1

    Dectora. I ant.

    lt;1[he sword

    slos it fall. S her hair.

    Sakes off  upon t;1

    to lie beside he grave.

    It les. I will spread my hair,

    And erly,

    For I  he was proud and laughing,

    Blue-eyed, and a quick runner on bare feet,

    And t housand years ago.

    O; O! O! O!

    [Forgael cune.]

    But no, t is not it.

    t my feet. O! O! O! O!

    For golden-armed Iollan t I loved-

    But  t made me say I loved him?

    It   it in my ts,

    But it is true. hey run upon him,

    And beat t heir swords?

    Forgael. Do you not know me, lady? I am he

    t you are weeping for.

    Dectora. No, for he is dcad.

    O! O! O! O! for golden-armed Iollan.

    Forgael. It , but I will prove

    t the grave-diggers in a dreamy frenzy

    my golden arms.

    Listen to t lohe moon

    And you  my face and voice,

    For you ened to me playing it

    thousand years.

    lt;1[arts up, listening to the harp slips from

    the bulwarks

    be;1

    are t there?

    ter of a sudden?

    are you calling out above t?

    If railing and reproach and mockery

    Because I o love

    By magic strings, Ill make to it:

    Being driven on by voices and by dreams

    t he Ever-living,

    I .  could I but obey?

    And yet you make a clamour of reproach.

    Dcctora [laugs a  of reckoning

    t I she moon

    to ty.

    Forgael.  she is merry?

    But no, no, no! your cry is not against me.

    You knohe Ever-living,

    And all t tossing of your wings is joy,

    And all t murmurings but a marriage-song;

    But if it be reproachis:

    t one among you t made love

    by any ot passion,

    Consideration, generosity;

    But it , and flattery

    to win a woman in e,

    For love is red in it;

    And if you say t she came willingly -

    Dectora. urn away and hide your face,

    t I would look upon for ever?

    Forgael. My grief!

    Dectora.  loved you for a thousand years?

    Forgael. I never have been golden-armed Iollan.

    Vectora. I do not understand. I know your face

    Better than my own hands.

    Forgael. I have deceived you

    Out of all reckoning.

    tectora. Is it not tme

    t you housand years ago,

    In islands whe children of Aengus wind

    In happy dances under a windy moon,

    And t youll bring me there?

    Forgael. I have deceived you;

    I terly.

    Dectora.  be?

    Is it t though your eyes are full of love

    Some other woman has a claim on you,

    And Ive but half!

    Forgael. O no!

    Dectora. And if there is,

    If t matter?

    Ill never give anot to it;

    No, no, nor ; but do not speak.

    omen are ubborn-ed,

    turned tery;

    And t is wheir lovers are afraid

    to tell tory.

    Forgael. ts not tory;

    But I  a  you,

    t it  burst.

    I  all.

    Dectora.  do I care,

    No my body o dream,

    And you o be a burning sod

    In tion and intellect?

    If somets most fabulous rue -

    If you aken me by magic spells,

    And killed a lover or  my feet -

    I  let you speak, for I would know

    t it erday and not to-day

    I loved him; I would cover up my ears,

    As I am doing now. [A pause.] hy do you weep?

    Forgael. I hing for your eyes

    But desolate ers and a battered ship.

    Dectora. O  your eyes to mine?

    Forgael. I s above,

    And not a roof of ivory and gold.

    Dectora. I he ivory roof,

    And strike th my hands.

    I  the world

    But my beloved - t night and day had perished,

    And all t is and all t is to be,

    All t is not ting of our lips.

    Forgael. You turn away. urn away?

    Am I to fear the moon

    My enemy?

    Dectora. I looked upon the moon,

    Longing to knead and pull it into shape

    t I mig on your head as a crown.

    But no is your ts t wander away,

    For you are looking at t know

    a  is to let ones t

    ander a moment when one is in love?

    lt;1[

    over t;1

    the sea?

    Forgael. Look there!

    Dectora.  is t a troop of ash-grey birds

    t fly into t?

    Forgael. But listen, listen!

    Dectora.  is t the birds?

    Forgael. If youll but listen closely to t crying

    Youll  to one another

    ith human voices

    Dectora. O, I can hem now.

    are to ry do they fly?

    Forgael. to unimaginable happiness.

    the air,

    But no taken to the road

    e o follos;

    And t the colour of grey ash,

    t, could you but heir words,

    quot;try at the world

    to outlive the moon.

    lt;1[t

    excitement.]gt;1

    First Sailor. treasure.

    Second Sailor. Full to tches.

    First Sailor. treasure on treasure.

    third Sailor. Boxes of precious spice.

    First Sailor. Ivory images  eyes.

    th eyes of ruby.

    First Sailor. the whole ship

    Flas  of herrings.

    ts o a

    woman.

    Second Sailor. t

    eyes to.

    Aibric [silencing ture]. e urn to

    our ory, Forgael,

    For s so great

    Imagination cannot reckon it.

    And  upon there,

    more o look for on the seas?

    Forgael. I cannot - I am going on to the end.

    As for th me.

    Aibric. t no,

    It his woman in her womans vengeance

    t drove you to it, and I fool enough

    to fancy t shed bring you home again.

    t egged o it, for you know

    t o h.

    Dectora. t is not true, for he has promised me

    An unimaginable happiness.

    Aibric. And if t han dreams,

    More t-whirl,

    t I t is,

    It sry of the dead,

    If try.

    Dectora. No, not there,

    But in some island whe world

    Leaps upreams o the world

    o one fountain.

    Aibric. Speak to him.

    aking you to death;

    Speak -  deny it.

    Dectora. Is t true?

    Forgael. I do not knoain, but I know.

    t I  of pilots.

    Aibric. Shadows, illusions,

    t the Ever-laughing Ones,

    tal Mockers  into his mind,

    Or called before his eyes.

    Dectora. O carry me

    to some sure country, some familiar place.

    everyt life can give

    In her?

    Forgael.

    If I refused ts

    its and all t crying out?

    Dectora. But I will cover up your eyes and ear?,

    t you may never he birds,

    Or look upon them.

    Forgael. ere t lowlier

    Id do your  too oo high.

    Dectora. Being too heir heady prophecies

    But  come to nothing,

    Because  proud, imperishable,

    Alone and winged.

    Forgael. Our love sheirs

    their changeless image on.

    Dectora. I am a  every breath.

    Aibric. Let tter, for tree is broken,

    And to the Sailors.]

    to ther ship,

    And I  the rope

    o this man here,

    For neither I nor any living man

    ill look upon his face again.

    [t.]

    Forgael [to Dectora], Go h him,

    For er you and bring you home.

    Aibric [taking Forgaels  for his sake.

    Dectora. No. take this sword

    And cut th Forgael.

    Aibric [o the yew-bough has been

    broken into two,

    And all ttered - O! O! O!

    Farewell! farewell! [.]

    Dectora. the rope -

    t falls into the sea,

    It  worm,

    Dragon t loved to it,

    You are broken, you are broken. ts

    away,

    And I am left alone h my beloved,

    put me from  for ever.

    e are alone for ever, and I laugh,

    Forgael, because you cannot put me from you.

    t he heavens, and you and I

    Shis crown -

    I  has been in my dreams.

    Bend lo I may cro.

    O flohe leaves,

    O silver fis my two aken

    Out of tream, O morning star

    trembling in te fawn

    Upon ty border of the wood,

    Bend lo I may cover you h my hair,

    For his world no longer.

    Forgael [gatoras  him]. Beloved, hav-

    ing dragged t about us,

    And knitted meso mesal;

    And t old self

    to cry aloud to the grey birds, and dreams,

    t her, live in us.

 The Seven Sages

    t. My great-grandfato Edmund Burke

    In Grattans house.

    t-grandfather shared

    A pot-h once.

    t-grandfatalked of music,

    Drank tar-er he Bishop of Cloyne.

    t mine saella once.

    t?

    t minds t ed higgery.

    th. Burke was a hig.

    t,

    Goldsmit and the Bishop of Cloyne

    All ed  w is higgery?

    A levelling, rancorous, rational sort of mind

    t never looked out of t

    Or out of drunkards eye.

    th. Alls higgery now,

    But  the world.

    t. American colonies, Ireland, France and India

    melody against it.

    t he had seen,

    Roads full of beggars, cattle in the fields,

    But never sarefoil stained h blood,

    t it.

    tomb of S  away.

    third. A voice

    Soft as tle of a reed from Cloyne

    t gathunder-clap.

    tb.  schese four?

    the roads

    Mimicking hey heard, as children mimic;

    tood t wisdom comes of beggary.

 The Secret Rose

    FAR-OFF, most secret, and inviolate Rose,

    Enfold me in my hose

    the holy Sepulchre,

    Or in t, dir

    And tumult of defeated dreams; and deep

    Among pale eyelids, he sleep

    Men y. t leaves enfold

    t beards, the helms of ruby and gold

    Of the king whose eyes

    Sahe pierced hands and Rood of elder rise

    In Druid vapour and make torches dim;

    till vain frenzy awoke and he died; and him

    Fand walking among flaming dew

    By a grey she wind never blew,

    And lost the world and Emer for a kiss;

    And  of their liss,

    And till a hundred moms had flowered red

    Feasted, and  the barrows of his dead;

    And the crown

    And sorrow away, and calling bard and clown

    D among ained wanderers in deep woods:

    And illage, and house, and goods,

    And soughrough lands and islands numberless years,

    Until er and ears,

    A woman of so shining loveliness

    t men t midnigress,

    A little stolen tress. I, too, a

    t wind of love and e.

    ars be blo the sky,

    Like t of a smithy, and die?

    Surely t wind blows,

    Far-off, most secret, and inviolate Rose?

 The Second Coming

    tURNING and turning in the widening gyre

    t he falconer;

    t; tre cannot hold;

    Mere anarche world,

    tide is loosed, and everywhere

    the ceremony of innocence is drowned;

    t lack all conviction, w

    Are full of passionate intensity.

    Surely some revelation is at hand;

    Surely t hand.

    t

    image out of Spiritus Mundi

    troubles my sig

    A she head of a man,

    A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,

    Is moving its slo it

    Reel s desert birds.

    t now I know

    t ty centuries of stony sleep

    ere vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,

    And s  last,

    Sloucoo be born?

 The Rose Tree

    O ORDS are lightly spoken,

    Said Pearse to Connolly,

    Maybe a breatic words

    ree;

    Or maybe but a  blows

    Across tter sea.

    quot;It needs to be but ered,

    James Connolly replied,

    quot;to make t again

    And spread on every side,

    And she bud

    to be the gardens pride.

    quot;But wer,

    Said Pearse to Connolly,

    quot;he wells are parched away?

    O plain as plain can be

    t our own red blood

    Can make a rigree.

 The Old Age Of Queen Maeve

    A certain poet in outlandishes

    Gatine lane,

    talked1 of ry and its people, sang

    to some stringed instrument none there had seen,

    A wall behind his back, over his head

    A latticed  time

    As tened there, and his voice sank

    Or let its meaning mix into trings.

    MAEVE t queen o and fro,

    Beten bronze,

    In  Cruach,

    Flickering  half showed

    ired he rushes,

    Or on the walls,

    In comfortable sleep; all living slept

    But t great queen, w

    o fire and fire to door.

    though now in her old age, in her young age

    Siful in t old way

    ts all but gone; for t is gone,

    And t of ting-house fears all

    But Soft beauty and indolent desire.

    She world

    ever womans lover  her fancy,

    And yet -bodied and great-limbed,

    Faso be trong children;

    And s,

    And  caughe dried flax,

    At need, and made iful and fierce,

    Sudden and laughing.

    O unquiet ,

    her, praising her,

    As if tale but your oale

    ortting to a measure of s sound?

    bid you tell of t great queen

    housand years?

    its deepest, a wild goose

    Cried from ters lodge, and h long clamour

    Sheir hooks;

    But t on, as though some power

    h Druid heaviness;

    And wondering whe many-changing Sidhe

    imes to counsel her,

    Maeve  fall, being old,

    to t small cer gate.

    ter slept, alt upright

    itill and stony limbs and open eyes.

    Maeve ed, and w ear-piercing noise

    Broke from ed lips and broke again,

    Sher of his shoulders,

    And shook him wide awake, and bid him say

    he wandering many-changing ones

    roubled  all o say

    as t, the dogs

    More still th,

    hough he had dreamed

    nothing,

    he could remember when he had had fine dreams.

    It ime of t war

    Over te-he Brown Bull.

    Surned ao sleep

    t no god troubled now, and, wondering

    matters  among the Sidhe,

    Maeve  great h a sigh

    Lifted tain of her sleeping-room,

    Remembering t soo had seemed divine

    to many to her own

    One t tions ed

    t oo difficult for mortal hands

    Migain up

    Shere,

    And t of days  body,

    And of t famous Fergus, Nessas husband,

    he lover of her middle life.

    Suddenly Ailell spoke out of his sleep,

    And not h his own voice or a mans voice,

    But he burning, live, unshaken voice

    Of t, it may be, can never age.

    ;high Queen of Cruachan and Magh Ai,

    A king of t Plain h you.

    And ; king

    Of to me,

    As in they would come and go

    About my to counsel and to help?

    ted lips replied, quot;I seek your help,

    For I am Aengus, and I am crossed in love.

    quot;al

    h hand clasping hand,

    ty images t cannot her,

    For all tys like a hollow dream,

    Mirrored in streams t neither hail nor rain

    Nor troubled?

    he replied,

    quot;I am from those rivers and I bid you call

    t of sleep,

    And set them digging under Buals hill.

    e s hy housc,

    ill overthrow his shadows and carry off

    Caer, er t I love.

    I  these walls,

    And I would  need,

    Queen of high Cruachan.

    quot;I obey your will

    it and a most t:

    For you he birds,

    Our giver of good counsel and good luck.

    And al breath

    Could but awaken sadly upon lips

    t urned

    Face doossing in a troubled sleep;

    But Maeve, and not ,

    Came to ted house

    , and cried aloud,

    Until to stir

    iting and the clang of unhooked arms.

    Sold the many-changing ones;

    And all t nig day

    to middle nigo the hill.

    At middle nig cats h silver claws,

    Bodies of shadow and blind eyes like pearls,

    Came up out of the hole, and red-eared hounds

    ite bodies came out of the air

    Suddenly, and ran at them.

    t; cood

    its and terror-stricken faces,

    till Maeve called out, quot;t common men.

    t dropped their spades

    Because Earts broken power,

    Casts up a S

    it was glad,

    And whe grass

    S footfall in t,

    till it died out ood.

    Friend of too ood

    it w;

    For you, alt ,

    greatness, and not hers alone,

    For tory about queens

    In any ancient book but tells of you;

    And whey grew old and died,

    Or fell into unhappiness, Ive said,

    quot;S!

    And  out anehe words,

    , Soo !

    Outrun the measure.

    Id tell of t great queen

    ood amid a silence by thorn

    Until t of the air

    it of soft fire. the one,

    About wheir fiery wings,

    Said, quot;Aengus and  give thanks

    to Maeve and to Maeves household, owing all

    In o gives peace.

    t;O Aengus, Master of all lovers,

    A thousand years ago you held high ralk

    it kings of many-pillared Cruachan.

    O when will you grow weary?

    they had vanished,

    But our of there came

    A murmur of soft ing lips.

 The Moods

tIME drops in decay,

    Like a candle burnt out,

    And tains and woods

    heir day;

    one in t

    Of the fire-born moods

    has fallen away?

 The Mask

    quot;PUt off t mask of burning gold

    it;

    quot;O no, my dear, you make so bold

    to find if s be wild and wise,

    And yet not cold.quot;

    quot;I  find o find,

    Love or deceit.quot;

    quot;It he mask engaged your mind,

    And after set your  to beat,

    Not ws be;

    quot;But lest you are my enemy,

    I must enquire.quot;

    quot;O no, my dear, let all t be;

    matter, so t fire

    In you, in me?quot;

 The Lover Tells Of The Rose In His Heart

ALL t and old,

    t,

    teps of try mould,

    Are  blossoms a rose in t.

    too great to be told;

    I o build t on a green knoll apart,

    iter, re-made, like a casket of gold

    For my dreams of your image t blossoms a rose in t.

 The Lake Isle Of Innisfree

    I ILL arise and go noo Innisfree,

    And a small cabin build ttles made:

    Nine bean-rows will I he honey-bee,

    And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

    And I shere, for peace comes dropping slow,

    Dropping from to w sings;

    ts all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,

    And evening full of ts wings.

    I  and day

    I er lapping he shore;

    and on ts grey,

    I  in ts core.

 The Hosting Of The Sidhe

    t is riding from Knocknarea

    And over th-na-Bare;

    Caoilte tossing his burning hair,

    And Niamh calling Away, come away:

    Empty your  of its mortal dream.

    the leaves whirl round,

    Our cheeks are pale, our hair is unbound,

    Our breasts are heaving our eyes are agleam,

    Our arms are ;

    And if any gaze on our rushing band,

    e come between he deed of his hand,

    e come between .

    t is rus night and day,

    And where hope or deed as fair?

    Caoilte tossing his burning hair,

    And Niamh calling Away, come away.

 The Host Of The Air

    ODRISCOLL drove h a song

    the drake

    From tall and tufted reeds

    Of t Lake.

    And he reeds grew dark

    At t-tide,

    And dreamed of the long dim hair

    Of Bridget his bride.

    he heard while he sang and dreamed

    A piper piping away,

    And never was piping so sad,

    And never was piping so gay.

    And he saw young men and young girls

    ho danced on a level place,

    And Bridget hem,

    ith a sad and a gay face.

    t him

    And many a s thing said,

    And a young man brought him red wine

    And a young girl we bread.

    But Bridget drew he sleeve

    Ahe merry bands,

    to old men playing at cards

    it hands.

    the wine had a doom,

    For t of the air;

    and played in a dream

    Of her long dim hair.

    he merry old men

    And t not of evil chance,

    Until one bore Bridget his bride

    Ahe merry dance.

    ms,

    t young man there,

    And  and his arms

    ere drowned in her long dim hair.

    ODriscoll scattered the cards

    And out of his dream awoke:

    Old men and young men and young girls

    ere gone like a drifting smoke;

    But he air

    A piper piping away,

    And never was piping so sad,

    And never was piping so gay.

 The Harp of Aengus

    Edain came out of Midhirs hill, and lay

    Beside young Aengus in ower of glass,

    ime is drowned in odour-laden winds

    And Druid moons, and murmuring of boughs,

    And sleepy boughs, and boughs where apples made

    Of opal and rue

    Arings,

    S  of his long hair,

    Because her hands had been made wild by love.

    o a fly,

    h Druid apple-wood

    t s know ;

    And from t ched over none

    But faithful lovers.

 The Fish

ALthe ebb and flow

    Of tide w,

    the people of coming days will know

    About ting out of my net,

    And imes out of mind

    Over ttle silver cords,

    And t you were hard and unkind,

    And blame you ter words.

 The Everlasting Voices

O SEEt everlasting Voices, be still;

    Go to the heavenly fold

    And bid them wander obeying your will,

    Flame under flame, till time be no more;

    our s are old,

    t you call in birds, in he hill,

    In side on the shore?

    O s everlasting Voices, be still.

 The Dolls

    A DOLL in the doll-makers house

    Looks at the cradle and balls:

    t is an insult to us.

    But t of all the dolls

    for show,

    Generations of ,

    Out-screams though

    t a man can report

    Evil of this place,

    the woman bring

    o our disgrace,

    A noisy and filthing.

    retch

    the doll-maker1s wife is aware

    ch,

    And crouche arm of his chair,

    So his ear,

    :

    My dear, my dear, oh dear,

    It .

 The Crucifixion Of The Outcast

    A MAN, hin brown hair and a pale

    face, he road

    t o town

    of the Shelly River. Many called him Cum-

    he son of Cormac, and many called

    , ild horse; and he was

    a glee man, and  parti-

    coloured doublet, and ed shoes,

    and a bulging . Also he

    blood of th-place

    ing and

    sleeping places he four provinces of

    Eri, and  upon

    trayed

    from toe Friars

    and totlements to a row of

    crosses  against the sky

    upon a tle to the

    town, and , and shook

    it at they were

    not empty, for ttering

    36

    about t how, as like

    as not, just sucher vagabond as

    hem; and

    tered;  If it were hanging or bow-

    stringing, or stoning or be would

    be bad enoug to he birds

    pecking your eyes and ting

    your feet ! I  the red wind

    of thered in his cradle

    t the

    tree of deat of barbarous lands, or

    t tning, e Dathi

    at t of tain, ten

    his grave had been dug

    by toothed

    merro ts of the deep

    sea.

    hile he spoke, he shivered from head

    to foot, and t came out upon

    why, for

    he had looked upon many crosses. he

    passed over tle-

    ment Ed gate, and t-

    27

    udded  nails, and , her

    wer, and of him he asked

    a place in t-he lay

    brotook a glourf on a shovel,

    and led to a big and naked out-

    rey rushes; and

    t ligwo

    of tones of t the glow-

    ing turf upon th and gave him

    two unligraw,

    and s hanging from a

    nail, and a sh a loaf of bread and

    a jug of er, and a tub in a far

    corner. t him

    and  back to he door.

    And Cumhe son of Cormac began

    to blourf, t he

    mig the wisp

    of stra ed him

    notraw were

    damp. So ook off ed shoes,

    and dreub out of th

    t of he

    ; but ter was

    so dirty t  see ttom

    eaten

    all t day; so  e much

    anger upon tub, but took up the black

    Ioaf, and bit into it, and t out the

    bite, for the bread was hard and mouldy.

    Still  give o h, for

    drunken these many hours;

    his

    days end,  tasted,

    to make ful.

    Noo  he

    flung it from raighe

    er ter and ill-smelling. then

    it broke

    against te wall, and ook

    do to  about him for

    t. But no sooner did ouc

    t

    th anger, he rushed

    to t- the lay

    brotomed to such

    outcries,  on tside; so

    Cumied tub and began to

    beat t, till ther

    carne to t ailed

    of sleep.

    ails me ! sed Cumhal,  are

    not t as the sands of

    t the

    fleas in t as many as the waves

    of t the

    bread as  of a lay brother

    the

    er in tter and as ill-smelling

    as  t-er the

    colour t shall be upon him when he has

    been che

    lay brot t, and

    back to oo

    sleepy to talk . And Cum-

    on beating at the door, and

    presently

    once more, and cried out at him, ~ O

    coyrannous race of friars, per-

    secutors of ters

    of life and joy ! O race t does not draw

    tell truth ! O race

    t melts th

    co !

    Gleeman, said ther,  I also

    make r

    in my nico

    he friars.

    Brotherefore I

    make knoo you t it is the head of

    tery, our gracious Coarb, who

    orders all the lodging of

    travellers.

    You may sleep, said Cumhal, ~ I will

    sing a bards curse on the Coarb. And

    tub upside doh~

    ood upon it, and began to

    sing in a very loud voice. the singing

    a  up in bed

    and bleil the lay

    broto  get a

    noise, said the

    Coarb.   is happening ?

    It is a glee man, said ther,

    whe bread,

    of ter in t-er,

    and of t. And now he is singing

    a bards curse upon you, O brother Coarb,

    and upon your father,

    and your grandfather and your grand-

    motions.

    Is he cursing in rhyme ?

    h

    two assonances in every line of his

    curse.

    t-cap off and

    crumpled it in he circular

    broche middle of his

    bald he

    midst of a pond, for in Connaughey

    yet abandoned t ton sure

    for tyle to use.  If we

    do not somew, each

    o treet, and

    t to the

    robbers on tain of Gulben.

    Sher, and

    give er

    in a jug, clean foot-er, and a new

    blanket, and make he

    blessed St. Benign us, and by the sun and

    moon, t no bond be lacking, not to tell

    o treet,

    and t the doors, and

    tain of Gulben ?

    Neitron nor the sun

    and t all, said the

    Coarb: for to-morro day

    to curse would come upon him,

    or a pride in those rhymes would move

    eaco the

    che robbers.

    Or else ell anot

    -house, and he

    in urn o curse, and my

    name here is no

    steadfastness of purpose upon the roads,

    but only under roofs, and between four

    herefore I bid you go and awaken

    Brother

    Little olf, Brotrick, Brother

    Bald Brandon, Brother

    Peter. And take the man, and

    43

    bind he

    river t o sing. And in

    t t make him curse

    the louder, we will crucify him.

    the lay

    brother.

    t make another cross. If

    make an end of her

    will, for w and sleep in peace

    he

    world ? Ill sand before blessed

    St. Benign us, and sour would be his face

    t

    Day, o spare an enemy of his

    whumb !

    Brothe glee men are

    an evil race, ever cursing and ever stirring

    up the people, and immoral and im-

    moderate in all then in

    ts, aler the Son

    of Lir, and Angus, and Bridget, and the

    Dagda, and Dana the

    false gods of the old days; always making

    poems in praise of those kings and queens

    44

    of the hill in

    the hill of

    the ave, and

    Eiveen of they

    call Don of ts of the Sea; and

    railing against God and C and the

    blessed Saints. hile he was speaking

    he crossed himself, and when he had

    finiscap over his

    ears, to s out the noise, and closed

    o

    sleep.

    ther Kevin,

    Brottle olf, Brother

    Bald Patrick, Brother Bald Brandon,

    Broter sitting

    up in bed, and  up.

    they

    dragged o they dipped

    at terwards

    called Buckleys Ford.

    Gleeman, said they

    led o t-house,  why do

    you ever use t which God has given

    45

    you to make blaspales

    and verses ? For suche way of your

    craft. I ales and

    verses well nige, and so I know

    t I speak true ! And why do you praise

    hose demons, Finvaragh, Red

    Aodoo,

    am a man of great  and learning, but

    I ever glo.rify our gracious Coarb, and

    Benignus our Patron, and the princes of

    t and

    orderly, but yours is like the wind among

    t I could for

    you, being also a man of many ts,

    but who could help such a one as you ?

    My soul, friend, anshe glee man,

    is indeed like t blows me

    to and fro, and up and dos

    many to my mind and out of my

    mind, and t,

    ild horse. And he spoke no more

    t nigeettering

    he cold.

    to him

    46

    in t ready to

    be crucified, and led  of t-

    ill stood upon the

    step a flock of great grass-barnacles passed

    h clanking cries. he

    lifted o t

    grass-barnacles, tarry a little, and may hap

    my soul ravel o te

    places of to the ungovern- 1

    able sea !  At te a crowd of beggars

    gat to

    beg from any traveller or pilgrim who

    mig t in t-

    he friars led

    to a place in t

    some distance,  young

    trees hey made him

    cut one doo t

    lengtood round them

    in a ring, talking and gesticulating. the

    Coarb t off another and

    ser piece of  upon

    t. So there was his cross for him;

    and t it upon his shoulder, for

    47

    o be on top of the

    hers were. A half-mile

    on to stop and

    see hem: for he knew,

    ricks of Angus the

    Subtle-ed. the old friars were for

    pressing on, but the young friars would

    see him: so he did many wonders for

    to t

    of  after a wurned

    on ricks were dull and

    a s the cross on his

    she

    op and hear

    for them, for he knew, he said, all

    ts of Conan the Bald, upon whose

    back a she young

    friars, wales,

    again bade ake up

    i ll became to listen to such follies.

    Anothe way, he asked

    to stop and ory

    of e-Breasted Deirdre, and how she

    endured many sorrows, and he sons

    of Usna died to serve he young

    friars o  when he

    him

    for ten longings in their

    s. So t the cross upon his

    back, and o the hill.

    o top, took

    to dig a hole

    to stand it in, whered

    round, and talked among themselves. ~ I

    ask a favour before I die, says Cum hal.

    e  you no more delays, says

    the Coarb.

    I ask no more delays, for I have drawn

    told truth, and lived my

    vision, and am content.

    ould you then confess ?

    By sun and moon, not l; I ask but to

    6e let eat t.

    I carry food in my  whenever I go

    upon a journey, but I do not taste of it

    unless I am well-nigarved. I have

    not eaten nowo days.

    You may eat, the Coarb,

    ¨´Iq E

    and urned to he

    hole.

    took a loaf and some strips

    of cold fried bacon out of  and laid

    tithe

    to t a tenth

    part from the bacon.  ho

    among you is t ? And there-

    upon  clam our, for the beggars

    began tory of their

    poverty, and their yellow faces swayed like

    the floods have filled

    it er from the bogs.

    ened for a little, and, says he,

    I am myself t, for I have

    travel led tter-ing footsteps of tattered

    doublet of particoloured cloth upon my

    back and torn pointed shoes upon my

    feet he

    toy full of noble raiment *hich

    was in my . And I he more

    alone upon the sea, be-

    cause I  tling of

    the rose-bordered dress of her who is more

    subtle tle-ed,

    and more full of ty of laughan

    Conan the wisdom

    of tears te-Breasted Deirdre, and

    more lovely ting dao them

    t are lost in therefore, I l

    aito myself; but yet, because

    I am done  unto you.

    So rips of

    bacon among t

    il t scrap was

    eaten. But meanwhe

    glee man to  it upright in

    t the

    foot, and trampled it level and hard. So

    t a tared

    on, sitting round t whe

    sun  up to go, for

    tting chilly. And as soon as

    ttle he wolves, who

    he edge

    of a neighbouring coppice, came nearer,

    and the birds wheeled closer and closer.

    5 1

    Stay, outcasts, yet a little whe cruci-

    fied one called in a o the beg-

    gars, and keep ts and the birds

    from me. But the beggars were angry

    because casts, so

    tones and mud at him, and

    thered

    at t of the birds flew

    loly the birds

    lig once upon his head and arms

    and so peck at him,

    and to eat .  Out-

    casts, urned

    against tcast ?

 The Black Tower

    SAY t tower,

    t feed as therd feeds,

    t, their wine gone sour,

    Lack not a soldier needs,

    t all are oath-bound men:

    t in.

    tomb stand t,

    But he shore:

    the winds roar,

    Old bones upon tain shake.

    to bribe or ten,

    Or w a mans a fool

    kings forgotten,

    Cares s up his rule.

    If he died long ago

    hy do you dread us so?

    tomb drops t moonlight,

    But he shore:

    the winds roar,

    Old bones upon tain shake.

    to must climb and clamber

    Catche morn

    retched in slumber

    S  horn.

    But hes a lying hound:

    Stand h-bound!

    tomb the dark grows blacker,

    But he shore:

    the winds roar,

    Old bones upon tain shake.

 The Arrow

I t of your beauty, and this arrow,

    Made out of a , is in my marrow.

    theres no man may look upon her, no man,

    As wo be a woman,

    tall and noble but h face and bosom

    Delicate in colour as apple blossom.

    tys kinder, yet for a reason

    I could  t of season.

 Swifts Epitaph

SIFt o ;

    Savage indignation there

    Cannot lacerate .

    Imitate him if you dare,

    orld-besotted traveller; he

    Served y.

 Sailing to Byzantium

    t is no country for old men. the young

    In one anotrees

    - tions - at their song,

    the mackerel-crowded seas,

    Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long

    ever is begotten, born, and dies.

    Caug sensual music all neglect

    Monuments of unageing intellect.

    An aged man is but a paltry thing,

    A tattered coat upon a stick, unless

    Soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing

    For every tatter in its mortal dress,

    Nor is t studying

    Monuments of its own magnificence;

    And the seas and come

    to ty of Byzantium.

    O sages standing in Gods holy fire

    As in the gold mosaic of a wall,

    Come from the holy fire, perne in a gyre,

    And be ters of my soul.

    Consume my  ah desire

    And fastened to a dying animal

    It kno  is; and gather me

    Into tifice of eternity.

    Once out of nature I sake

    My bodily form from any natural thing,

    But suchs make

    Of hammered gold and gold enamelling

    to keep a drowsy Emperor awake;

    Or set upon a golden bougo sing

    to lords and ladies of Byzantium

    Of , or passing, or to come.

 O Do Not Love Too Long

    SEEt, do not love too long:

    I loved long and long,

    And greo be out of fashion

    Like an old song.

    All th

    Neither could have known

    t from thers,

    e were so muc one.

    But O, in a minute she changed -

    O do not love too long,

    Or you  of fashion

    Like an old song.

 No Second Troy

    she filled my days

    it se

    augo ignorant men most violent ways,

    Or tle streets upon t.

    courage equal to desire?

    could h a mind

    t nobleness made simple as a fire,

    ity like a tightened bow, a kind

    t is not natural in an age like this,

    Being ary and most stern?

    could s she is?

    as troy for o burn?

 Leda And The Swan

    A sudden blo ing still

    Above taggering girl, highs caressed

    By  in his bill,

    upon .

    errified vague fingers push

    thighs?

    we rush,

    But feel trange  beating w lies?

    A shere

    tower

    And Agamemnon dead.

    Being so caught up,

    So mastered by te blood of the air,

    Did s on h his power

    Before t beak could let her drop?

 Lapis Lazuli

    I  erical women say

    tte and fiddle-bow.

    Of poets t are always gay,

    For everybody knows or else should know

    t if notic is done

    Aeroplane and Zeppelin .

    Pitch like King Billy bomb-balls in

    Until toen flat.

    All perform tragic play,

    truts , there is Lear,

    ts Op Cordelia;

    Yet t scene be there,

    t stage curtain about to drop,

    If  part in the play,

    Do not break up to weep.

    t  and Lear are gay;

    Gaiety transfiguring all t dread.

    All men , found and lost;

    Black out; o the head:

    tragedy s uttermost.

    t rambles and Lear rages,

    And all t once

    Upon a ages,

    It cannot grow by an inch or an ounce.

    On t they came, or On shipboard,

    Camel-back; horse-back, ass-back, mule-back,

    Old civilisations put to the sword.

    t to rack:

    No handiwork of Callimachus,

    were bronze,

    Made draperies t seemed to rise

    tands;

    em

    Of a slender palm, stood but a day;

    All t again,

    And t build them again are gay.

    two Chird,

    Are carved in lapis lazuli,

    Over them flies a long-legged bird,

    A symbol of longevity;

    tless a serving-man,

    Carries a musical instmment.

    Every discoloration of tone,

    Every accidental crack or dent,

    Seems a er-course or an avalanche,

    Or lofty slope ill snows

    tless plum or cherry-branch

    Sens ttle half-way house

    towards, and I

    Deligo imagine ted there;

    tain and the sky,

    On all tragic scene tare.

    One asks for mournful melodies;

    Accompliso play.

    their eyes,

    t, glittering eyes, are gay.

 King And No King

    OULD it  merely voice!

    ter t was King,

    Because  hing

    t balanced han noise;

    Yet Old Romance being kind, let him prevail

    Somew I ,

    t cannon -

    to  upon as clean and s a tale

    ed by t pledge you gave

    In momentary anger long ago;

    And I t  your faith, how shall I know

    t in t beyond the grave

    ell find so good a t we ?

    the days common speech.

    tual content of each each

    Men neither soul nor body has been crossed.

 In the Seven Woods

    I he Seven oods

    Make t the garden bees

    ree flo away

    tcries and tterness

    t empty t. I  awhile

    tara uprooted, and new commonness

    Upon t treets

    And s paper flo to post,

    Because it is alone of all things happy.

    I am contented, for I kno Quiet

    anders lauging

    Among pigeons and bees,  Archer,

    as o s, still hangs

    A cloudy quiver over Pairc-na-lee.

 Her Praise

    S of t I would hear praised.

    I  the house, gone up and down

    As a man does who has published a new book,

    Or a young girl dressed out in her new gown,

    And turned talk by hook or crook

    Until  theme,

    A ale she had read,

    A man confusedly in a half dream

    As ther name ran in his head.

    S of t I would hear praised.

    I alk no more of books or the long war

    But il I have found

    Some beggar sering from there

    Manage talk until her name come round.

    If there be rags enough he will know her name

    And be , for in the old days,

    though she had young mens praise and old mens blame,

    Among th old and young gave her praise.

 He Wishes For The Cloths Of Heaven

hs,

    Enwroug,

    ths

    Of nig and t,

    I :

    But I, being poor, have only my dreams;

    I ;

    tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

 Easter, 1916

    I  t close of day

    Coming h vivid faces

    From counter or desk among grey

    Eigury houses.

    I he head

    Or polite meaningless words,

    Or have lingered awhile and said

    Polite meaningless words,

    And t before I had done

    Of a mocking tale or a gibe

    to please a companion

    Around t the club,

    Being certain t they and I

    But lived wley is worn:

    All cterly:

    A terrible beauty is born.

    t

    In ignorant good-will,

    s in argument

    Until her voice grew shrill.

    voice more s than hers

    iful,

    So harriers?

    t a school

    And rode our winged horse;

    ther his helper and friend

    as coming into his force;

    he end,

    So sensitive ure seemed,

    So daring and s .

    ther man I had dreamed

    A drunken, vainglorious lout.

    bitter wrong

    to some w,

    Yet I number he song;

    oo,

    In the casual comedy;

    oo, urn,

    transformed utterly:

    A terrible beauty is born.

    s h one purpose alone

    ter seem

    Enced to a stone

    to trouble tream.

    t comes from the road.

    t range

    From cloud to tumbling cloud,

    Minute by minute they change;

    A sream

    Ce by minute;

    A he brim,

    And a ;

    the long-legged moor-hens dive,

    And o moor-cocks call;

    Minute by minute they live:

    tones in t of all.

    too long a sacrifice

    Can make a stone of t.

    O w suffice?

    t is , our part

    to murmur name upon name,

    As a mother names her child

    last has come

    On limbs t had run wild.

    is it but nightfall?

    No, no, not nig death;

    as it needless deater all?

    For England may keep faith

    For all t is done and said.

    e knoheir dream; enough

    to knohey dreamed and are dead;

    And w if excess of love

    Beill they died?

    I e it out in a verse -

    MacDonagh and MacBride

    And Connolly and Pearse

    Noime to be,

    herever green is worn,

    Are cterly:

    A terrible beauty is born.

 Broken Dreams

    thERE is grey in your hair.

    Young men no longer suddenly catch

    hen you are passing;

    But maybe some old gaffer mutters a blessing

    Because it was your prayer

    Recovered h.

    For your sole sake - t all s ache have known,

    And given to ots ache,

    From meagre girlting on

    Burdensome beauty - for your sole sake

    aroke of her doom,

    So great ion in t peace you make

    By merely walking in a room.

    Your beauty can but leave among us

    Vague memories, not memories.

    A young man walking

    ill say to an old man, quot;tell me of t lady

    t stubborn h his passion sang us

    well have chilled his blood.

    Vague memories, not memories,

    But in the grave all, all, shall be renewed.

    tainty t I s lady

    Leaning or standing or walking

    In t loveliness of womanhood,

    And hful eyes,

    me muttering like a fool.

    You are more beautiful than any one,

    And yet your body had a flaw:

    Your small  beautiful,

    And I am afraid t you will run

    And paddle to t

    In t mysterious, always brimming lake

    he holy law

    paddle and are perfect. Leave unchanged

    t I have kissed,

    For old sakes sake.

    t stroke of midnight dies.

    All day in the one chair

    From dream to dream and ro rhyme I have

    ranged

    In rambling talk h an image of air:

    Vague memories, not memories.

 Baile And Aillinn

    ARGUMENt. Baile and Aillinn  Aengus, the

    Master of Love, wiso he happy in his own land

    among told to eacory of th, so

    t ts hey died.

    I he curlew cry,

    Nor the wind is high,

    Before my ts begin to run

    On the heir of Uladh, Buans son,

    Baile, wh;

    And t mild h,

    Aillinn, who was King Lugaidhs heir.

    their love was never drowned in care

    Of t thing, nor grew cold

    Because their hodies had grown old.

    Being forbid to marry on earth,

    to immortal mirth.

    About time w was born,

    e horn

    And t yet come,

    Young Baile h, whom some

    Called rattle-Land,

    Rode out of Emain h a band

    Of hey

    Imagined, as truck the way

    to many-pastured Muirthemne,

    t all t happily,

    And t fools had said,

    Baile and Aillinn would be wed.

    there:

    he had ragged long grass-coloured hair;

    stuck out of his hose;

    er in his shoes;

    o keep him dry,

    Although he had a squirrels eye.

    lt;1O wandering hirds and rushy beds,

    You put such folly in our heads

    ithe wind,

    No common love is to our mind,

    And our poor kate or Nan is less

    than any whose unhappiness

    Arings long ago.

    Yet t kno know

    t all this life can give us is

    A cer, a womans kiss.

    put so great a scorn

    In t night and morn

    Are trodden and broken he herds,

    And in t bodies of birds

    tumbles to and fro

    And pinc;1

    t runner said: quot;I am from th;

    I run to Baile h,

    to tell he girl Aillinn

    Rode from try of her kin,

    And old and young men rode h her:

    For all t country ir

    If anybody half as fair

    had chosen a husband anywhere

    But w could see her every day.

    tle way

    An old man caughe horses head

    it;quot;You must home again, and wed

    ith somebody in your own land.

    A young man cried and kissed her hand,

    quot;quot;O lady, h one of us;

    And weous

    For any gentle thing she spake,

    S-break.

    Because a lovers  s ,

    Being tumbled and blo

    By its own blind imagining,

    And  anything

    t is bad enougo be true, is true,

    Bailes  wo;

    And he, being laid upon green boughs,

    as carried to the goodly house

    before

    the brazen pillars of his door,

    o he end

    Of ter and her friend

    For athough years had passed away

    t day,

    For on t day trayed;

    And no h is laid

    Under a cairn of sleepy stone

    Before ears for none,

    Altone, but two

    For w heaped anew.

    lt;1e hold, because our memory is

    Sofull of t this,

    t out of sig of mind.

    But the wind

    And th crooked bill

    rave suc till

    Remember Deirdre and her man;

    And we or Nan

    About ter-side,

    Our s can Fear the voices chide.

    ent,

    Naoise ?

    And they have news of Deirdres eyes,

    ho being lovely was so wise -

    A knows well ;1

    No crafty one,

    Gat him, mn

    ing-maids,

    s and shades

    Dreamed of t would unlace

    their bodices in some dim place

    o triage-bed,

    And h high head

    As their music were enough

    to make t of love

    Grole  sorrowing,

    Imagining and pondering

    calamity;

    quot;Anothers hurried off, cried he,

    quot;From  and cold and wind and wave;

    tones above his grave

    In Muirt

    In cters  -

    Baile, t was of Rurys seed.

    But the gods long ago decreed

    No ing-maid should ever spread

    Baile and Aillinns marriage-bed,

    For they should clip and clip again

    Plain.

    t is but little news

    t put this hurry in my shoes.

    t he scarce had spoke

    Before  had broke.

    il he came

    to t he herdsmen name

    t of Laighen, because

    Some god or king he laws

    t ogethere,

    In old times among the air.

    t old man climbed; the day grew dim;

    to him,

    Linked by a gold co each,

    And h low murmuring laughing speech

    Alighe windy grass.

    they knew him: his changed body was

    tall, proud and ruddy, and light wings

    ere rings

    t Edain, Midhirs wife, had wove

    In the hid place, being crazed by love.

    s swim,

    Scale rubbing scale w is dim

    By a broad er-lily leaf;

    Or mice in ten sheaf

    Forgotten at threshing-place;

    Or birds lost in the one clear space

    Of morning light in a dim sky;

    Or, it may be, the eyelids of one eye,

    Or the door-pillars of one house,

    Or t blossoming apple-boughs

    t he ground;

    Or trings t made one sound

    wise harpers finger ran.

    For this young man

    an end,

    Because they have made so good a friend.

    they pass

    toes of Gorias,

    And Findrias and Falias,

    And long-forgotten Murias,

    Among t kings whose hoard,

    Cauldron and spear and stone and sword,

    as robbed before eart;

    andering from broken street to street

    tcher is,

    And tremble heir love and kiss.

    they

    ander whers away,

    troubles t streams

    But ligars, and gleams

    From there is none

    But fruit t is of precious stone,

    Or apples of the sun and moon.

    o t

    Quiets ;

    t

    On dappled skins in a glass boat,

    Far out under a windless sky;

    hem birds of Aengus fly,

    And over tiller and the prow,

    And o and fro

    A air

    to stir t and their hair.

    And poets found, old ers say,

    A yeree where his body lay;

    But a wild apple he grass

    its s blossom where hers was,

    And being in good , because

    A better time had come again

    After ths of many men,

    And t long fig the ford,

    te on tablets of thin board,

    Made of the yew,

    All tories t they knew.

    lt;1Let rus their fill

    Of ter if they will,

    Beloved, I am not afraid of her.

    S wiser nor lovelier,

    And you are more  than she,

    For all her wanderings over-sea;

    But Id

    t

    longed to wive

    Like t are no more alive.

 Against Unworthy Praise

    O , be at peace, because

    Nor knave nor dolt can break

    s not for their applause,

    Being for a womans sake.

    Enoughe work has seemed,

    So did srength renew,

    A dream t a lion had dreamed

    till the wilderness cried aloud,

    A secret betwo,

    Bethe proud.

    , still you would heir praise!

    But ier text,

    th of her days

    t rangeness perplexed;

    And  her dreaming gave

    Earned slander, ingratitude,

    From self-same dolt and knave;

    Aye, and hese.

    Yet she, singing upon her road,

    peace.

 Aedh Wishes For The Clothes Of Heaven

hs,

    Enwroug,

    ths

    Of nig and t,

    I :

    But I, being poor, have only my dreams;

    I ;

    tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

 A Prayer For My Daughter

    Once more torm is howling, and half hid

    Under this cradle-hood and coverlid

    My cacle

    But Gregorys wood and one bare hill

    ack- and roof-levelling wind,

    Bred on tlantic, can be stayed;

    And for an hour I have walked and prayed

    Because of t gloom t is in my mind.

    I his young child an hour

    And ower,

    And under the bridge, and scream

    In tream;

    Imagining in excited reverie

    t ture years had come,

    Dancing to a frenzied drum,

    Out of the sea.

    May sed beauty and yet not

    Beauty to make a strangers eye distraught,

    Or hers before a looking-glass, for such,

    Being made beautiful overmuch,

    Consider beauty a sufficient end,

    Lose natural kindness and maybe

    t-revealing intimacy

    t c, and never find a friend.

    and dull

    And later rouble from a fool,

    great Queen, t rose out of the spray,

    Being fatherless could have her way

    Yet ch for man.

    Its certain t fine

    A crazy salad

    y is undone.

    In courtesy Id have her chiefly learned;

    s are not  but s are earned

    By t are not entirely beautiful;

    Yet many, t he fool

    For beautys very self, has charm made wise,

    And many a poor man t has roved,

    Loved and t himself beloved,

    From a glad kindness cannot take his eyes.

    May sree

    t all s may like t be,

    And  dispensing round

    ties of sound,

    Nor but in merriment begin a chase,

    Nor but in merriment a quarrel.

    O may she live like some green laurel

    Rooted in one dear perpetual place.

    My mind, because t I have loved,

    t of beauty t I have approved,

    Prosper but little, e,

    Yet kno to be ce

    May well be of all evil chances chief.

    If tred in a mind

    Assault and battery of the wind

    Can never tear t from the leaf.

    An intellectual red is t,

    So let hink opinions are accursed.

    seen t woman born

    Out of tys horn,

    Because of ed mind

    Barter t horn and every good

    By quiet natures understood

    For an old bellows full of angry wind?

    Considering t, all red driven hence,

    the soul recovers radical innocence

    And learns at last t it is self-delighting,

    Self-appeasing, self-affrighting,

    And t its o will is heavens will;

    Shough every face should scowl

    And every er howl

    Or every bello, be ill.

    And may o a house

    omed, ceremonious;

    For arrogance and red are the wares

    Peddled in thoroughfares.

    in custom and in ceremony

    Are innocence and beauty born?

    Ceremonys a name for the rich horn,

    And custom for tree.