I heard an old religious man
But yesternight declare
That he had found a text to prove
That only God, my dear,
Could love you for yourself alone
And not your yellow hair.

W.B. Yeats


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I Sing what was lost and dread what was won,
I walk in a battle fought over again

W.B. Yeats


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On November Eve they are at their gloomiest, for according to the old Gaelic reckoning, this is the first night of winter. This night they dance with the ghosts, and the pooka is abroad, and witches make their spells, and girls set a table with food in the name of the devil, that the fetch of their future lover may come through the window and eat of the food. After November Eve the blackberries are no longer wholesome, for the pooka has spoiled them.

W.B. Yeats

Mots clés faery faerie



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Be not inhospitable to strangers, lest they be angels in disguise.

W.B. Yeats


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When You Are Old

When you are old and grey and full of sleep
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true;
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face.

And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead,
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

W.B. Yeats

Mots clés love poetry ageing



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I made my song a coat
Covered with embroideries
Out of old mythologies
From heel to throat;
But the fools caught it,
Wore it in the world's eyes
As though they'd wrought it.
Song, let them take it,
For there's more enterprise
In walking naked

W.B. Yeats

Mots clés modernism



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The tragedy of sexual intercourse is the perpetual virginity of the soul.

W.B. Yeats

Mots clés sex



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Does the imagination dwell the most
Upon a woman won or a woman lost?

W.B. Yeats

Mots clés imagination love woman the-tower



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I think that a fierce woman's better, a woman
That breaks away when you have thought her won,
For I'd be fed and hungry at one time.

W.B. Yeats

Mots clés love women relationships



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Now days are dragon-ridden.

W.B. Yeats


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