Time poems

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A Man Young And Old: VII. The Friends Of His Youth

© William Butler Yeats

Laughter not time destroyed my voice
And put that crack in it,
And when the moon's pot-bellied
I get a laughing fit,

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Baile And Aillinn

© William Butler Yeats

ARGUMENT. Baile and Aillinn were lovers, but Aengus, the
Master of Love, wishing them to he happy in his own land
among the dead, told to each a story of the other's death, so
that their hearts were broken and they died.

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Beggar To Beggar Cried

© William Butler Yeats

'Time to put off the world and go somewhere
And find my health again in the sea air,'
Beggar to beggar cried, being frenzy-struck,
'And make my soul before my pate is bare.-

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On Being Asked For A War Poem

© William Butler Yeats

I think it better that in times like these
A poet's mouth be silent, for in truth
We have no gift to set a statesman right;
He has had enough of medding who can please
A young girl in the indolence of her youth,
Or an old man upon a winter's night.

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A Man Young And Old: VIII. Summer And Spring

© William Butler Yeats

We sat under an old thorn-tree
And talked away the night,
Told all that had been said or done
Since first we saw the light,

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The Hour Before Dawn

© William Butler Yeats

And I will talk before I sleep
And drink before I talk.'
And he
Had dipped the wooden ladle deep
Into the sleeper's tub of beer
Had not the sleeper started up.

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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.

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A Woman Homer Sung

© William Butler Yeats

If any man drew near
When I was young,
I thought, 'He holds her dear,'
And shook with hate and fear.

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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?

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He Tells Of The Perfect Beauty

© William Butler Yeats

O cloud-pale eyelids, dream-dimmed eyes,
The poets labouring all their days
To build a perfect beauty in rhyme
Are overthrown by a woman's gaze

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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;

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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;

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A Meditation In Time Of War

© William Butler Yeats

For one throb of the artery,
While on that old grey stone I Sat
Under the old wind-broken tree,
I knew that One is animate,
Mankind inanimate phantasy.

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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

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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.

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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.

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All Things Can Tempt Me

© William Butler Yeats

All things can tempt me from this craft of verse:
One time it was a woman's face, or worse -
The seeming needs of my fool-driven land;
Now nothing but comes readier to the hand

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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;

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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.

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Three Songs To The One Burden

© William Butler Yeats

IThe Roaring Tinker if you like,
But Mannion is my name,
And I beat up the common sort
And think it is no shame.