Responsibilities and other Poems

by W.B. Yeats

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Genres: Poetry, 20th Century, Classics, Irish Literature, Ireland

130 pages, Hardcover

First published January 1, 1914

About the author

William Butler Yeats was an Irish poet and dramatist, and one of the foremost figures of 20th century literature. A pillar of both the Irish and British literary establishments, in his later years Yeats served as an Irish Senator for two terms. He was a driving force behind the Irish Literary Revival, and along with Lady Gregory and Edward Martyn founded the Abbey Theatre, serving as its chief during its early years. In 1923 he was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature for what the Nobel Committee described as "inspired poetry, which in a highly artistic form gives expression to the spirit of a whole nation." He was the first Irishman so honored. Yeats is generally considered one of the few writers who completed their greatest works after being awarded the Nobel Prize; such works include The Tower (1928) and The Winding Stair and Other Poems (1929).

Yeats was born and educated in Dublin but spent his childhood in County Sligo. He studied poetry in his youth, and from an early age was fascinated by both Irish legends and the occult. Those topics feature in the first phase of his work, which lasted roughly until the turn of the century. His earliest volume of verse was published in 1889, and those slow paced and lyrical poems display debts to Edmund Spenser and Percy Bysshe Shelley, as well as to the Pre-Raphaelite poets. From 1900, Yeats' poetry grew more physical and realistic. He largely renounced the transcendental beliefs of his youth, though he remained preoccupied with physical and spiritual masks, as well as with cyclical theories of life.
--from Wikipedia

Reviews

[Paul · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is another collection of poetry from Yeats that dwells in the realms of folklore and it's really rather nice.

The Three Beggars

'Though to my feathers in the wet,
I have stood here from break of day,
I have not found a thing to eat
For only rubbish comes my way.
Am I to live on lebeen-lone?'
Muttered the old crane of Gort.
'For all my pains on lebeen-lone.'

King Guari walked amid his court
The palace-yard and river-side
And there to three old beggars said:
'You that have wandered far and wide
Can ravel out what's in my head.
Do men who least desire get most,
Or get the most who most desire?'
A beggar said: 'They get the most
Whom man or devil cannot tire,
And what could make their muscles taut
Unless desire had made them so.'
But Guari laughed with secret thought,
'If that be true as it seems true,
One of you three is a rich man,
For he shall have a thousand pounds
Who is first asleep, if but he can
Sleep before the third noon sounds.'
And thereon merry as a bird,
With his old thoughts King Guari went
From river-side and palace-yard
And left them to their argument.
'And if I win,' one beggar said,
'Though I am old I shall persuade
A pretty girl to share my bed';
The second: 'I shall learn a trade';
The third: 'I'll hurry to the course
Among the other gentlemen,
And lay it all upon a horse';
The second: 'I have thought again:
A farmer has more dignity.'
One to another sighed and cried:
The exorbitant dreams of beggary,
That idleness had borne to pride,
Sand through their teeth from noon to noon;
And when the second twilight brought
The frenzy of the beggars' moon
They closed their blood-shot eyes for naught.
One beggar cried: 'You're shamming sleep.'
And thereupon their anger grew
Till they were whirling in a heap.
They'd mauled and bitten the night through
Or sat upon their heels to rail,
And when old Guari came and stood
Before the three to end this tale,
They were commingling lice and blood.
'Time's up,' he cried, and all the three
With blood-shot eyes upon him stared.
'Time's up,' he cried, and all the three
Fell down upon the dust and snored.

'Maybe I shall be lucky yet,
Now they are silent,' said the crane.
'Though to my feathers in the wet
I've stood as I were made of stone
And seen the rubbish run about,
It's certain there are trout somewhere
And maybe I shall take a trout
If but I do not seem to care.'

My next book: Seeing Things: Poems

[Hoàng Nguyễn · Rating 3 out of 5]

Not sure if the format of the Kindle ebook ruined the book for me or it was a mess right from the start... I was touched by some of the poems in this, especially by "To a child dancing in the wind"; along with a few memorable lines and that was it.

[Truls Ljungström · Rating 3 out of 5]

Med denna har vi brutit igenom. Yeats talar uppfostrande till en potentiell finansiär med hänvisningar till renässansidealet om konst för konstens skull och kunskap för dess skull. Han skriver vackert men halvsarkastiskt om relationen till en förälders drömmar, eller om känslan av att dansa vid ett stup i storm, som barn kan ha eftersom de aldrig genomlevt konsekvenserna. Jag kan inte annat än rekommendera denna. Mitt problem med den, som gör att jag trots denna rekommendation inte ger den fler stjärnor, är att språket fortfarande är andefattigt: det finns för mycket utfyllnad och det gör att det imponerande så att säga drunknar. Lyfter man ut strofer, är den utmärkt - satta i sitt sammanhang är de stjärnor på en småtråkig bakgrund. Rent idemässigt är vi igenom - hantverksmässigt är vi bara delvis så.

[Descending Angel · Rating 3 out of 5]

A collection of 27 poems from 1914. Highlights - "the three beggars" "running to paradise" "a memory of youth"

[heresy · Rating 3 out of 5]

i asked for some myths and i got some difficult-to-interpret poems (not that i’ve ever been good at understanding poetry) and a badly formatted, completely surreal play

[Classics Fan · Rating 3 out of 5]

Some gems in here. "September 1913" and "The Realists" were especially good. None of these poems rise to the level of "Easter 1916" or "The Second Coming" though.

[Jaimie · Rating 1 out of 5]

Definitely wasn’t impressed with this collection of poetry… For me Yeats is all about the mystical, magical, and mythological Ireland, and while his dalliance with realism in the previous collection (The Green Helmet and other Poems) was interesting, I’m getting awfully bored with the focus on the everyday. The one poem which I did enjoy in this collection was “Friends,” which harkens back to his interest in cultural mythology, since the themes and imagery are very obviously tied to the threefold aspect goddess. She takes many forms in various cultures around the world, and some would read this poem as simply an exploration of time and age, but knowing Yeats’ previous inclinations gives the poem quite a bit more potential depth and interest. Unfortunately it looks like this trend towards realism dominates the remainder of his work, so this will be the last collection that I read for a while. May come back in time, though.

[M. Ashraf · Rating 3 out of 5]

Another collection of poems
In the completed works of W.B. Yeats
Some were very good poems, with great rhymes others were meh :/
I really liked a Memory of Youth
To the next collection: The Wild Swans at Coole

[Steven Malone · Rating 5 out of 5]

It's Yeats.
Shows Yeats' transition to more ethereal poetry.
Long period between 'date started' to 'date finished' is because of the 'poetry' mood hit me and I could get some of his wonderous and vivid writing into my soul.

[Andrew · Rating 4 out of 5]

Further turning from mythical Irish settings to settings that have a darkness falling over that mythology. These are very good, but the thing I like most about them isn't necessarily the poetry itself, but the change over time that Yeats has shown. It's a sad and hopeless change, but a real one.

[Duffy Pratt · Rating 5 out of 5]

What can I say. This is basically middling Yeats, which means it's just great. These are mostly short, and an odd combination of the lyrical and the bitter. None of them are among his most famous poems. But they are uniformly excellent.

[Theron Arnold · Rating 3 out of 5]

Best poem: "A Memory of Youth"

[Mary Margaret · Rating 4 out of 5]

This was so wonderful, and I can’t wait to read more Yeats!