Good poems
/ page 271 of 545 /
The Tower
© William Butler Yeats
IWhat shall I do with this absurdity -
O heart, O troubled heart - this caricature,
Decrepit age that has been tied to me
As to a dog's tail?
Two Songs Rewritten For The Tune's Sake
© William Butler Yeats
What is the good of a man and he
Alone and alone, with a speckled shin?
I would that I drank with my love on my knee
Between two barrels at the inn.
Oro, oro!
To-morrow night I will break down the door.
The Wheel
© William Butler Yeats
Through winter-time we call on spring,
And through the spring on summer call,
And when abounding hedges ring
Declare that winter's best of all;
The Song Of The Happy Shepherd
© William Butler Yeats
The woods of Arcady are dead,
And over is their antique joy;
Of old the world on dreaming fed;
Grey Truth is now her painted toy;
In Tara's Halls
© William Butler Yeats
A man I praise that once in Tara's Hals
Said to the woman on his knees, 'Lie still.
My hundredth year is at an end. I think
That something is about to happen, I think
The Fiddler Of Dooney
© William Butler Yeats
When I play on my fiddle in Dooney.
Folk dance like a wave of the sea;
My cousin is priest in Kilvarnet,
My brother in Mocharabuiee.
The Secret Rose
© William Butler Yeats
Far-off, most secret, and inviolate Rose,
Enfold me in my hour of hours; where those
Who sought thee in the Holy Sepulchre,
Or in the wine-vat, dwell beyond the stir
The Wanderings of Oisin: Book I
© William Butler Yeats
S. Patrick. You who are bent, and bald, and blind,
With a heavy heart and a wandering mind,
Have known three centuries, poets sing,
Of dalliance with a demon thing.
The Apparitions
© William Butler Yeats
Because there is safety in derision
I talked about an apparition,
I took no trouble to convince,
Or seem plausible to a man of sense.
The Phases Of The Moon
© William Butler Yeats
Ahernc. Why should not you
Who know it all ring at his door, and speak
Just truth enough to show that his whole life
Will scarcely find for him a broken crust
Of all those truths that are your daily bread;
And when you have spoken take the roads again?
Father And Child
© William Butler Yeats
She hears me strike the board and say
That she is under ban
Of all good men and women,
Being mentioned with a man
A Cradle Song
© William Butler Yeats
The angels are stooping
Above your bed;
They weary of trooping
With the whimpering dead.
A Dialogue Of Self And Soul
© William Butler Yeats
My Soul. I summon to the winding ancient stair;
Set all your mind upon the steep ascent,
Upon the broken, crumbling battlement,
Upon the breathless starlit air,
Walter Savage Landor
© Dorothy Parker
Upon the work of Walter Landor
I am unfit to write with candor.
If you can read it, well and good;
But as for me, I never could.
Verse For a Certain Dog
© Dorothy Parker
Such glorious faith as fills your limpid eyes,
Dear little friend of mine, I never knew.
All-innocent are you, and yet all-wise.
(For Heaven's sake, stop worrying that shoe!)
Tombstones in the Starlight
© Dorothy Parker
His little trills and chirpings were his best.
No music like the nightingale's was born
Within his throat; but he, too, laid his breast
Upon a thorn.
The Veteran
© Dorothy Parker
When I was young and bold and strong,
Oh, right was right, and wrong was wrong!
My plume on high, my flag unfurled,
I rode away to right the world.
"Come out, you dogs, and fight!" said I,
And wept there was but once to die.
The Red Dress
© Dorothy Parker
I always saw, I always said
If I were grown and free,
I'd have a gown of reddest red
As fine as you could see,
Story
© Dorothy Parker
"And if he's gone away," said she,
"Good riddance, if you're asking me.
I'm not a one to lie awake
And weep for anybody's sake.
Recurrence
© Dorothy Parker
We shall have our little day.
Take my hand and travel still
Round and round the little way,
Up and down the little hill.
