Love poems

 / page 640 of 1285 /
star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

A Dream Of Death

© William Butler Yeats

I dreamed that one had died in a strange place
Near no accustomed hand,
And they had nailed the boards above her face,
The peasants of that land,

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

A Man Young And Old: I. First Love

© William Butler Yeats

Though nurtured like the sailing moon
In beauty's murderous brood,
She walked awhile and blushed awhile
And on my pathway stood
Until I thought her body bore
A heart of flesh and blood.

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

The Man Who Dreamed Of Faeryland

© William Butler Yeats

He stood among a crowd at Dromahair;
His heart hung all upon a silken dress,
And he had known at last some tenderness,
Before earth took him to her stony care;

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

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.

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

A Faery Song

© William Butler Yeats

We who are old, old and gay,
O so old!
Thousands of years, thousands of years,
If all were told:

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Before The World Was Made

© William Butler Yeats

If I make the lashes dark
And the eyes more bright
And the lips more scarlet,
Or ask if all be right

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Fergus And The Druid

© William Butler Yeats

Fergus. This would I say, most wise of living souls:
Young subtle Conchubar sat close by me
When I gave judgment, and his words were wise,
And what to me was burden without end,
To him seemed easy, so I laid the crown
Upon his head to cast away my sorrow.

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Under Saturn

© William Butler Yeats

Do not because this day I have grown saturnine
Imagine that lost love, inseparable from my thought
Because I have no other youth, can make me pine;
For how should I forget the wisdom that you brought,

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

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?

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

The Mother of God

© William Butler Yeats

The threefold terror of love; a fallen flareThrough the hollow of an ear;Wings beating about the room;The terror of all terrors that I boreThe Heavens in my womb.

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

The Lamentation Of The Old Pensioner

© William Butler Yeats

Although I shelter from the rain
Under a broken tree,
My chair was nearest to the fire
In every company
That talked of love or politics,
Ere Time transfigured me.

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Man And The Echo

© William Butler Yeats

Man. In a cleft that's christened Alt
Under broken stone I halt
At the bottom of a pit
That broad noon has never lit,

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

The Indian To His Love

© William Butler Yeats

The island dreams under the dawn
And great boughs drop tranquillity;
The peahens dance on a smooth lawn,
A parrot sways upon a tree,
Raging at his own image in the enamelled sea.

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

The Lady's First Song

© William Butler Yeats

I turn round
Like a dumb beast in a show.
Neither know what I am
Nor where I go,

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

A Prayer For My Son

© William Butler Yeats

Bid a strong ghost stand at the head
That my Michael may sleep sound,
Nor cry, nor turn in the bed
Till his morning meal come round;

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

The Lover Mourns For The Loss Of Love

© William Butler Yeats

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:

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Ephemera

© William Butler Yeats

Pensive they paced along the faded leaves,
While slowly he whose hand held hers replied:
'Passion has often worn our wandering hearts.'

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Under The Moon

© William Butler Yeats

Because of something told under the famished horn
Of the hunter's moon, that hung between the night and the day,
To dream of women whose beauty was folded in dis may,
Even in an old story, is a burden not to be borne.

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Vacillation

© William Butler Yeats

Things said or done long years ago,
Or things I did not do or say
But thought that I might say or do,
Weigh me down, and not a day
But something is recalled,
My conscience or my vanity appalled.

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

The Lover's Song

© William Butler Yeats

Bird sighs for the air,
Thought for I know not where,
For the womb the seed sighs.
Now sinks the same rest
On mind, on nest,
On straining thighs.