Poems begining by T
/ page 432 of 916 /The Dawn
© William Butler Yeats
I would be ignorant as the dawn
That has looked down
On that old queen measuring a town
With the pin of a brooch,
The Arrow
© William Butler Yeats
I thought of your beauty, and this arrow,
Made out of a wild thought, is in my marrow.
There's no man may look upon her, no man,
As when newly grown to be a woman,
The Realists
© William Butler Yeats
Hope that you may understand!
What can books of men that wive
In a dragon-guarded land,
paintings of the dolphin-drawn
The Madness Of King Goll
© William Butler Yeats
I sat on cushioned otter-skin:
My word was law from Ith to Emain,
And shook at Inver Amergin
The hearts of the world-troubling seamen,
Three Marching Songs
© William Butler Yeats
Remember all those renowned generations,
They left their bodies to fatten the wolves,
They left their homesteads to fatten the foxes,
Fled to far countries, or sheltered themselves
In cavern, crevice, or hole,
Defending Ireland's soul.
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?
The Lady's Third Song
© William Butler Yeats
When you and my true lover meet
And he plays tunes between your feet.
Speak no evil of the soul,
Nor think that body is the whole,
The Crazed Moon
© William Butler Yeats
Crazed through much child-bearing
The moon is staggering in the sky;
Moon-struck by the despairing
Glances of her wandering eye
We grope, and grope in vain,
For children born of her pain.
The Old Stone Cross
© William Butler Yeats
A statesman is an easy man,
He tells his lies by rote;
A journalist makes up his lies
And takes you by the throat;
To A Young Girl
© William Butler Yeats
My dear, my dear, I know
More than another
What makes your heart beat so;
Not even your own mother
The Peacock
© William Butler Yeats
What's riches to him
That has made a great peacock
With the pride of his eye?
The wind-beaten, stone-grey,
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;
To A Young Beauty
© William Butler Yeats
Dear fellow-artist, why so free
With every sort of company,
With every Jack and Jill?
Choose your companions from the best;
Who draws a bucket with the rest
Soon topples down the hill.
The Cloak, The Boat And The Shoes
© William Butler Yeats
'I make the cloak of Sorrow:
O lovely to see in all men's sight
Shall be the cloak of Sorrow,
In all men's sight.'
The Witch
© William Butler Yeats
Toil and grow rich,
What's that but to lie
With a foul witch
And after, drained dry,
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;
The Lover Tells of the Rose in His Heart
© William Butler Yeats
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 Fascination Of What's Difficult
© William Butler Yeats
The fascination of what's difficult
Has dried the sap out of my veins, and rent
Spontaneous joy and natural content
Out of my heart. There's something ails our colt
The Wild Old Wicked Man
© William Butler Yeats
Because I am mad about women
I am mad about the hills,'
Said that wild old wicked man
Who travels where God wills.