W.B. Yeats
Author profile
born
in Sandymount, County Dublin, Ireland
June 13, 1865
died
January 28, 1939
gender
male
genre
influences
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The Collected Poems
by W.B. Yeats, Richard J. Finneran — published 1938 — 5 editions |
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Irish Fairy and Folk Tales
— published 1892 — 85 editions |
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Poetry, Drama and Prose
by W.B. Yeats, James Pethica — published 2000 |
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Selected Poems
by W.B. Yeats, John Kelly — published 1967 — 35 editions |
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Selected Poems and Four Plays
by W.B. Yeats, Macha Louis Rosenthal — published 1996 — 2 editions |
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The Celtic Twilight: Faerie and Folklore
— published 1893 — 50 editions |
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Treasury of Irish Myth, Legend & Folklore
by W.B. Yeats, Augusta Gregory — published 1986 |
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Mythologies
— published 1969 — 7 editions |
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The Yeats Reader, Revised Edition: A Portable Compendium of Poetry, Drama, and Prose
— published 1997 — 8 editions |
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Cathleen Ni Houlihan
— published 1902 — 16 editions |
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“For he would be thinking of love
Till the stars had run away
And the shadows eaten the moon.”
― W.B. Yeats, Selected Poems and Four Plays
Till the stars had run away
And the shadows eaten the moon.”
― W.B. Yeats, Selected Poems and Four Plays
“The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.”
― W.B. Yeats
― W.B. Yeats
“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
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
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