Later Poems E-Book

William Butler Yeats

• Herausgeber: E-BOOKARAMA
• Kategorie: Poesie und Drama
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

EXCERPT:

"This book contains all poetry not in dramatic form that I have written between my seven-and-twentieth year and the year 1921. I have included one long poem in dramatic form, of which a much shortened version, intended for stage representation, is in my book of plays. I have left out nearly all the long notes which seemed necessary before the work of various writers, but especially of my friend Lady Gregory, had made the circumstantial origins of my verse, in ancient legend or in the legends of the country side, familiar to readers of poetry.

THOOR BALLYLEE,
May 1922."

William Butler Yeats (1865 – 1939) was an Irish poet and one of the foremost figures of 20th-century literature. A pillar of the Irish literary establishment, he helped to found the Abbey Theatre, and in his later years served two terms as a Senator of the Irish Free State. He was a driving force behind the Irish Literary Revival along with Lady Gregory, Edward Martyn and others.
William Butler Yeats is widely considered to be one of the greatest poets of the 20th century. 

Leseprobe

William Butler Yeats

Later Poems

Table of contents

LATER POEMS

Preface

THE WIND AMONG THE REEDS (1899)

The Hosting Of The Sidhe

The Everlasting Voices

The Moods

The Lover Tells Of The Rose In His Heart

The Host Of The Air

The Fisherman

A Cradle Song

Into The Twilight

The Song Of Wandering Aengus

The Song Of The Old Mother

The Heart Of The Woman

The Lover Mourns For The Loss Of Love

He Mourns For The Change That Has Come Upon Him And His Beloved And Longs For The End Of The World

He Bids His Beloved Be At Peace

He Reproves The Curlew

He Remembers Forgotten Beauty

A Poet To His Beloved

He Gives His Beloved Certain Rhymes

To His Heart, Bidding It Have No Fear

The Cap And Bells

The Valley Of The Black Pig

The Lover Asks Forgiveness Because Of His Many Moods

He Tells Of A Valley Full Of Lovers

He Tells Of The Perfect Beauty

He Hears The Cry Of The Sedge

He Thinks Of Those Who Have Spoken Evil Of His Beloved

The Blessed

The Secret Rose

Maid Quiet

The Travail Of Passion

The Lover Pleads With His Friend For Old Friends

A Lover Speaks To The Hearers Of His Songs In Coming Days

The Poet Pleads With The Elemental Powers

He Wishes His Beloved Were Dead

He Wishes For The Cloths Of Heaven

He Thinks Of His Past Greatness When A Part Of The Constellations Of Heaven

The Fiddler Of Dooney

The Old Age Of Queen Maeve (1903)

Baile And Aillinn (1903)

IN THE SEVEN WOODS (1904)

In The Seven Woods

The Arrow

The Folly Of Being Comforted

Old Memory

Never Give All The Heart

The Withering Of The Boughs

Adam's Curse

Red Hanrahan's Song About Ireland

The Old Men Admiring Themselves In The Water

Under The Moon

The Ragged Wood

O Do Not Love Too Long

The Players Ask For A Blessing On The Psalteries And On Themselves

The Happy Townland

THE SHADOWY WATERS (1906)

Dedication To Lady Gregory

The Harp Of Aengus

The Shadowy Waters

FROM THE GREEN HELMET AND OTHER POEMS (1912)

His Dream

A Woman Homer Sung

The Consolation

No Second Troy

Reconciliation

King And No King

Peace

Against Unworthy Praise

The Fascination Of What's Difficult

A Drinking Song

The Coming Of Wisdom With Time

On Hearing That The Students Of Our New University Have Joined The Agitation Against Immoral Literature

To A Poet, Who Would Have Me Praise Certain Bad Poets, Imitators Of His And Mine

The Mask

Upon A House Shaken By The Land Agitation

At The Abbey Theatre

These Are The Clouds

At Galway Races

A Friend's Illness

All Things Can Tempt Me

The Young Man's Song

RESPONSIBILITIES (1914)

Responsibilities

The Grey Rock

The Two Kings

To A Wealthy Man Who Promised A Second Subscription To The Dublin Municipal Gallery If It Were Proved The People Wanted Pictures

September 1913

To A Friend Whose Work Has Come To Nothing

Paudeen

To A Shade

When Helen Lived

On Those That Hated "The Playboy Of The Western World," 1907

The Three Beggars

The Three Hermits

Beggar To Beggar Cried

Running To Paradise

The Hour Before Dawn

A Song From The Player Queen

The Realists

I. The Witch

II. The Peacock

The Mountain Tomb

I. To A Child Dancing In The Wind

II. Two Years Later

A Memory Of Youth

Fallen Majesty

Friends

The Cold Heaven

That The Night Come

An Appointment

I. The Magi

II. The Dolls

A Coat

CODA

THE WILD SWANS AT COOLE (1919)

The Wild Swans At Coole

In Memory Of Major Robert Gregory

An Irish Airman Foresees His Death

Men Improve With The Years

The Collar-Bone Of A Hare

Under The Round Tower

Solomon To Sheba

The Living Beauty

A Song

To A Young Beauty

To A Young Girl

The Scholars

Tom O'roughley

The Sad Shepherd

Lines Written In Dejection

The Dawn

On Woman

The Fisherman

The Hawk

Memory

Her Praise

The People

His Phoenix

A Thought From Propertius

Broken Dreams

A Deep-Sworn Vow

Presences

The Balloon Of The Mind

To A Squirrel At Kyle-Na-Gno

On Being Asked For A War Poem

In Memory Of Alfred Pollexfen

Upon A Dying Lady

Ego Dominus Tuus

A Prayer On Going Into My House

The Phases Of The Moon

The Cat And The Moon

The Saint And The Hunchback

Two Songs Of A Fool

Another Song Of A Fool

The Double Vision Of Michael Robartes

MICHAEL ROBARTES AND THE DANCER (1921)

Michael Robartes And The Dancer

Solomon And The Witch

An Image From A Past Life

Under Saturn

Easter, 1916

Sixteen Dead Men

The Rose Tree

On A Political Prisoner

The Leaders Of The Crowd

Towards Break Of Day

Demon And Beast

The Second Coming

A Prayer For My Daughter

A Meditation In Time Of War

To Be Carved On A Stone At Thoor Ballylee

Notes

LATER POEMS

William Butler Yeats

Preface

THIS book contains all poetry not in dramatic form that I have written between my seven-and-twentieth year and the year 1921. I have included one long poem in dramatic form, of which a much shortened version, intended for stage representation, is in my book of plays. I have left out nearly all the long notes which seemed necessary before the work of various writers, but especially of my friend Lady Gregory, had made the circumstantial origins of my verse, in ancient legend or in the legends of the country side, familiar to readers of poetry.

THOOR BALLYLEE, May 1922.

THE WIND AMONG THE REEDS (1899)

The Hosting Of The Sidhe

THE host is riding from Knocknarea And over the grave of Clooth-na bare; Caolte tossing his burning hair And Niamh calling Away, come away: Empty your heart of its mortal dream. The winds awaken, the leaves whirl round, Our cheeks are pale, our hair is unbound, Our breasts are heaving, our eyes are agleam, Our arms are waving, our lips are apart; And if any gaze on our rushing band, We come between him and the deed of his hand, We come between him and the hope of his heart. The host is rushing ’twixt night and day, And where is there hope or deed as fair? Caolte tossing his burning hair, And Niamh calling Away, come away.

The Everlasting Voices

O SWEET everlasting Voices, be still; Go to the guards of the heavenly fold And bid them wander obeying your will Flame under flame, till Time be no more; Have you not heard that our hearts are old, That you call in birds, in wind on the hill, In shaken boughs, in tide on the shore? O sweet everlasting Voices, be still.

The Moods

TIME drops in decay, Like a candle burnt out, And the mountains and woods Have their day, have their day; What one in the rout Of the fire-born moods Has fallen away?

The Lover Tells Of The Rose In His Heart

ALL things uncomely and broken, all things worn out and old, The cry of a child by the roadway, the creak of a lumbering cart, The heavy steps of the ploughman, splashing the wintry mould, Are wronging your image that blossoms a rose in the deeps of my heart.

The wrong of unshapely things is a wrong too great to be told; I hunger to build them anew and sit on a green knoll apart, With the earth and the sky and the water, remade, like a casket of gold For my dreams of your image that blossoms a rose in the deeps of my heart.

The Host Of The Air

O'DRISCOLL drove with a song The wild duck and the drake From the tall and the tufted reeds Of the drear Hart Lake.

And he saw how the reeds grew dark At the coming of night 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 Who danced on a level place And Bridget his bride among them, With a sad and a gay face.

The dancers crowded about him, And many a sweet thing said, And a young man brought him red wine And a young girl white bread.

But Bridget drew him by the sleeve, Away from the merry bands, To old men playing at cards With a twinkling of ancient hands.

The bread and the wine had a doom, For these were the host of the air; He sat and played in a dream Of her long dim hair.

He played with the merry old men And thought not of evil chance, Until one bore Bridget his bride Away from the merry dance.

He bore her away in his arms, The handsomest young man there, And his neck and his breast and his arms Were drowned in her long dim hair.

O'Driscoll scattered the cards And out of his dream awoke: Old men and young men and young girls Were gone like a drifting smoke;

But he heard high up in the air A piper piping away, And never was piping so sad, And never was piping so gay.

The Fisherman

ALTHOUGH you hide in the ebb and flow Of the pale tide when the moon has set, The people of coming days will know About the casting out of my net, And how you have leaped times out of mind Over the little silver cords, And think that you were hard and unkind, And blame you with many bitter words.

A Cradle Song

THE Danaan children laugh, in cradles of wrought gold, And clap their hands together, and half close their eyes, For they will ride the North when the ger-eagle flies, With heavy whitening wings, and a heart fallen cold: I kiss my wailing child and press it to my breast, And hear the narrow graves calling my child and me. Desolate winds that cry over the wandering sea; Desolate winds that hover in the flaming West; Desolate winds that beat the doors of Heaven, and beat The doors of Hell and blow there many a whimpering ghost; O heart the winds have shaken; the unappeasable host Is comelier than candles at Mother Mary's feet.

Into The Twilight

OUT-WORN heart, in a time out-worn, Come clear of the nets of wrong and right; Laugh, heart, again in the grey twilight, Sigh, heart, again in the dew of the morn.

Your mother Eire is always young, Dew ever shining and twilight grey; Though hope fall from you and love decay, Burning in fires of a slanderous tongue.

Come, heart, where hill is heaped upon hill: For there the mystical brotherhood Of sun and moon and hollow and wood And river and stream work out their will;

And God stands winding His lonely horn, And time and the world are ever in flight; And love is less kind than the grey twilight, And hope is less dear than the dew of the morn.

The Song Of Wandering Aengus

I WENT out to the hazel wood, Because a fire was in my head, And cut and peeled a hazel wand, And hooked a berry to a thread; And when white moths were on the wing, And moth-like stars were flickering out, I dropped the berry in a stream And caught a little silver trout.

When I had laid it on the floor I went to blow the fire a-flame, But something rustled on the floor, And some one called me by my name: It had become a glimmering girl With apple blossom in her hair Who called me by my name and ran And faded through the brightening air.

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

The Song Of The Old Mother

I RISE in the dawn, and I kneel and blow Till the seed of the fire flicker and glow; And then I must scrub and bake and sweep Till stars are beginning to blink and peep; And the young lie long and dream in their bed Of the matching of ribbons for bosom and head, And their day goes over in idleness, And they sigh if the wind but lift a tress: While I must work because I am old, And the seed of the fire gets feeble and cold.

The Heart Of The Woman

O WHAT to me the little room That was brimmed up with prayer and rest; He bade me out into the gloom, And my breast lies upon his breast.

O what to me my mother's care, The house where I was safe and warm; The shadowy blossom of my hair Will hide us from the bitter storm.

O hiding hair and dewy eyes, I am no more with life and death, My heart upon his warm heart lies, My breath is mixed into his breath.

The Lover Mourns For The Loss Of Love

PALE brows, still hands and dim hair, I had a beautiful friend And dreamed that the old despair Would end in love in the end: She looked in my heart one day And saw your image was there; She has gone weeping away.

He Mourns For The Change That Has Come Upon Him And His Beloved And Longs For The End Of The World

Do you not hear me calling, white deer with no horns! I have been changed to a hound with one red ear; I have been in the Path of Stones and the Wood of Thorns, For somebody hid hatred and hope and desire and fear Under my feet that they follow you night and day. A man with a hazel wand came without sound; He changed me suddenly; I was looking another way; And now my calling is but the calling of a hound; And Time and Birth and Change are hurrying by. I would that the Boar without bristles had come from the West And had rooted the sun and moon and stars out of the sky And lay in the darkness, grunting, and turning to his rest.

He Bids His Beloved Be At Peace

I HEAR the Shadowy Horses, their long manes a-shake, Their hoofs heavy with tumult, their eyes glimmering white; The North unfolds above them clinging, creeping night, The East her hidden joy before the morning break, The West weeps in pale dew and sighs passing away, The South is pouring down roses of crimson fire: O vanity of Sleep, Hope, Dream, endless Desire, The Horses of Disaster plunge in the heavy clay: Beloved, let your eyes half close, and your heart beat Over my heart, and your hair fall over my breast, Drowning love's lonely hour in deep twilight of rest, And hiding their tossing manes and their tumultuous feet.

He Reproves The Curlew

O, CURLEW, cry no more in the air, Or only to the water in the West; Because your crying brings to my mind Passion-dimmed eyes and long heavy hair That was shaken out over my breast: There is enough evil in the crying of wind.

He Remembers Forgotten Beauty

WHEN my arms wrap you round I press My heart upon the loveliness That has long faded from the world; The jewelled crowns that kings have hurled In shadowy pools, when armies fled; The love-tales wrought with silken thread By dreaming ladies upon cloth That has made fat the murderous moth; The roses that of old time were Woven by ladies in their hair, The dew-cold lilies ladies bore Through many a sacred corridor Where such grey clouds of incense rose That only the gods' eyes did not close: For that pale breast and lingering hand Come from a more dream-heavy land, A more dream-heavy hour than this; And when you sigh from kiss to kiss I hear white Beauty sighing, too, For hours when all must fade like dew, But flame on flame, and deep on deep, Throne over throne where in half sleep, Their swords upon their iron knees, Brood her high lonely mysteries.