Poems begining by T
/ page 434 of 916 /
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,
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:
The Rose Of Peace
© William Butler Yeats
If Michael, leader of God's host
When Heaven and Hell are met,
Looked down on you from Heaven's door-post
He would his deeds forget.
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.
To An Isle In The Water
© William Butler Yeats
Shy one, shy one,
Shy one of my heart,
She moves in the firelight
pensively apart.
The Mask
© William Butler Yeats
'Put off that mask of burning gold
With emerald eyes.'
'O no, my dear, you make so bold
To find if hearts be wild and wise,
And yet not cold.'
The Old Men Admiring Themselves In The Water
© William Butler Yeats
I heard the old, old men say,
'Everything alters,
And one by one we drop away.'
They had hands like claws, and their knees
The Lady's Second Song
© William Butler Yeats
What sort of man is coming
To lie between your feet?
What matter, we are but women.
Wash; make your body sweet;
The Wanderings of Oisin: Book II
© William Butler Yeats
S. Patrick. Be still: the skies
Are choked with thunder, lightning, and fierce wind,
For God has heard, and speaks His angry mind;
Go cast your body on the stones and pray,
For He has wrought midnight and dawn and day.
The Living Beauty
© William Butler Yeats
I bade, because the wick and oil are spent
And frozen are the channels of the blood,
My discontented heart to draw content
From beauty that is cast out of a mould
The Sad Shepherd
© William Butler Yeats
There was a man whom Sorrow named his Friend,
And he, of his high comrade Sorrow dreaming,
Went walking with slow steps along the gleaming
And humming Sands, where windy surges wend:
The Ballad Of Moll Magee
© William Butler Yeats
Come round me, little childer;
There, don't fling stones at me
Because I mutter as I go;
But pity Moll Magee.
The Rose Tree
© William Butler Yeats
'O words are lightly spoken,'
Said Pearse to Connolly,
'Maybe a breath of politic words
Has withered our Rose Tree;
Or maybe but a wind that blows
Across the bitter sea.'
The Coming Of Wisdom With Time
© William Butler Yeats
Though leaves are many, the root is one;
Through all the lying days of my youth
I swayed my leaves and flowers in the sun;
Now I may wither into the truth.
The Song Of The Old Mother
© William Butler Yeats
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;
The Lover Pleads With His Friend For Old Friends
© William Butler Yeats
Though you are in your shining days,
Voices among the crowd
And new friends busy with your praise,
Be not unkind or proud,
The Falling Of The Leaves
© William Butler Yeats
Autumn is over the long leaves that love us,
And over the mice in the barley sheaves;
Yellow the leaves of the rowan above us,
And yellow the wet wild-strawberry leaves.
The Circus Animals' Desertion
© William Butler Yeats
II sought a theme and sought for it in vain,
I sought it daily for six weeks or so.
Maybe at last, being but a broken man,
I must be satisfied with my heart, although
The Stolen Child
© William Butler Yeats
Where dips the rocky highland
Of Sleuth Wood in the lake,
There lies a leafy island
Where flapping herons wake
Two-Volume Novel
© Dorothy Parker
The sun's gone dim, and
The moon's turned black;
For I loved him, and
He didn't love back.
