Best-Loved Yeats

Mairéad Ashe FitzGerald

• Publisher: The O'Brien Press
• Year: 2013
• ISBN:
  9781847174338
• Topic: Littérature
• Subtopic: Poésie

I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams …

Some of the most famous lines in Irish poetry come from the pen of William Butler Yeats, poet, patriot, dramatist and senator. This illustrated collection of forty of his best-loved works, on Love, Politics, Old Age, Myth and Legend includes people, places and events that were important to him.

HE WISHES FOR THE CLOTHS OF HEAVEN

Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,

Enwrought with golden and silver light,

The blue and the dim and the dark cloths

Of night and light and the half-light,

I would spread the cloths under your feet:

But I, being poor, have only my dreams;

I have spread my dreams under your feet;

Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

THE PITY OF LOVE

A pity beyond all telling

Is hid in the heart of love:

The folk who are buying and selling,

The clouds on their journey above,

The cold wet winds ever blowing,

And the shadowy hazel grove

Where mouse-grey waters are flowing,

Threaten the head that I love.

THE SORROW OF LOVE

The brawling of a sparrow in the eaves,

The brilliant moon and all the milky sky,

And all that famous harmony of leaves,

Had blotted out man’s image and his cry.

A girl arose that had red mournful lips

And seemed the greatness of the world in tears,

Doomed like Odysseus and the labouring ships

And proud as Priam murdered with his peers;

Arose, and on the instant clamorous eaves,

A climbing moon upon an empty sky,

And all that lamentation of the leaves,

Could but compose man’s image and his cry.

THE WHITE BIRDS

I would that we were, my beloved, white birds on the foam of the sea!

We tire of the flame of the meteor, before it can fade and flee;

And the flame of the blue star of twilight, hung low on the rim of the sky,

Has awaked in our hearts, my beloved, a sadness that may not die.

A weariness comes from those dreamers, dew-dabbled, the lily and rose;

Ah, dream not of them, my beloved, the flame of the meteor that goes,

Or the flame of the blue star that lingers hung low in the fall of the dew:

For I would we were changed to white birds on the wandering foam: I and you!

I am haunted by numberless islands, and m...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title Page
• LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
• TABLE OF CONTENTS
• WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS
• The Enchanted Land
• The Romantic Idealist
• Coole Park and Thoor Ballylee
• War and Politics
• Old Age and Death
• WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS 1865-1939
• DESIGNER’S NOTE
• Index
• Copyright