"WHEN YOU ARE OLD" - by William Butler 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.
(One of the last poems that W.B. Yeats wrote. Born 13 June 1865 – Died 28 January 1939)
Image of W.B. Yeats public domain by Charles George Beresford via Wikimedia Commons.
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The Second Coming
BY WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
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The second Coming by William Butler Yeats
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The Mermaid
by W.B. Yeats
A mermaid found a swimming lad,
Picked him for her own,
Pressed her body to his body,
Laughed; and plunging down
Forgot in cruel happiness
That even lovers drown.
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Hydrangea macrophylla (mophead hydrangea)
For most of their blooming period, mophead hydrangeas come in uniform solid colors. But as they die off in the fall they feature dramatic color changes. "Things fall apart; the center cannot hold; mere anarchy is loosed upon the world."
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Everything that's lovely is but a brief, dreamy kind of delight.
-- William Butler Yeats
(Cluj, Romania)
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A mermaid found a swimming lad,
Picked him for her own,
Pressed her body to his body,
Laughed: and plunging down
Forgot in cruel happiness
That even lovers drown.
W.B. Yeats - The Mermaid (1918)
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John Singer Sargent | William Butler Yeats
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Do not wait to strike till the iron is hot; but make it hot by striking.
William Butler Yeats
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"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." WB Yeats
Falling in love with Yeats again.
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Ambiguous by Nature
I wanted to share a beautiful rendition of Leda and the Swan by the renowned Irish poet William Butler Yeats (1865-1939). It comes from Wisconsin artist Mark Brueggeman, who taught in the Department of Art and Design at the University of Wisconsin-Stevens Point for 27 years. He is a versatile, talented artist known for his work in stain-glass, painting, drawing, and printmaking. This work has now extended his work to include the roles of both publisher and illustrator. According to a quote from hiddenstudiosarttour.com, Brueggeman states he has “always enjoyed the look of text incorporated into drawings and paintings.”
Brueggeman's artwork is a rare gem, a testament to his meticulous craftsmanship. Printed in an edition of 15 copies at Brueggeman's Atelier Vermeil Studio in 2015, the work is a blend of letterpress and intaglio prints on Root River Mill paper handmade by the artist and several of his colleagues, and published as a portfolio of broadsides.
The poem, rooted in a Greek myth about a sexual encounter between the immortal god Zeus and the beautiful Spartan queen Leda, presents a unique perspective. In Yeats’ version, he offers a provocative and ambiguous account of a sexual act. Brueggeman's visual interpretation of the poem adds another layer of intrigue, leaning into the vague nature of the poem itself.
The artwork and poetry blend seamlessly, taking on a sensual yet brutal quality. They intentionally leave much to the reader's imagination, allowing for various interpretations and assumptions. However, one thing is certain in the poem and the artist’s rendering: following the rash and impulsive act, Leda is left on her own, carrying the knowledge of the future consequences that their union has created.
-Melissa, Special Collections Classics Intern
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When You Are Old
by 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.
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'I have looked upon those brilliant creatures,
And now my heart is sore.'
(excerpt from The Wild Swans of Coole)
William Butler Yeats
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