#w.b.yeats

[thedepressedpelican]

'I have looked upon those brilliant creatures,

And now my heart is sore.'

(excerpt from The Wild Swans of Coole)

William Butler Yeats

#the wild swans of coole #drumcliffe church #county sligo #ireland #burial place of William Butler Yeats #imiging #lensblr #monochrome #original photography on tumblr #william butler yeats #w.b.yeats #wb yeats

[dabiconcordia]

"Come away, oh, human child! To the woods and waters wild, With a fairy hand in hand, For the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand." By W.B. Yeats

#VIVIENNE TO: illustrator #graphic artist #w.b.yeats #pinterest.com

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

“And a softness came from the starlight and filled me full to the bone.”

~ W. B. Yeats

(Ian Sanders)

#Ian Sanders #starlight #stars #night sky #W.B.Yeats

[greencheekconure27]

Anyway world poetry day reminded me it's been a while since I actually read any poetry so I picked up one of my old favourites and opened it on a random page and..

And now I'm crying.

Because that tail feather belonged to George, my pet green cheek conure who died before the vet could diagnose what's wrong with him.I must have put that in there when he was still alive.

Just... the poem, the feather, everything.I used to read to him sometimes from this because he liked hearing my voice and I like to read poetry aloud from time to time?

He was my friend.And he's gone now.

#feelings #pet death #george the green cheek conure #grief #poetry #coincidence #books #w.b.yeats #world poetry day #animal death #birblr

[mirth-of-mind-and-lit]

I have spread my dreams beneath your feet; Tread softly because you tread on my dreams. ― W.B. Yeats

#w.b.yeats #irish quotes #four leaved clover #clover #irish #st paddy's day #st patricks day

[danaescav]

W.B. Yeats (1865–1939).  Responsibilities and Other Poems.  1916. 22. To a Child dancing in the Wind

I DANCE there upon the shore; What need have you to care For wind or water’s roar? And tumble out your hair That the salt drops have wet; Being young you have not known The fool’s triumph, nor yet Love lost as soon as won, Nor the best labourer dead And all the sheaves to bind. What need have you to dread The monstrous crying of wind?   II Has no one said those daring Kind eyes should be more learn’d? Or warned you how despairing The moths are when they are burned, I could have warned you, but you are young, So we speak a different tongue.   O you will take whatever’s offered And dream that all the world’s a friend, Suffer as your mother suffered, Be as broken in the end. But I am old and you are young, And I speak a barbarous tongue.

#w.b.yeats #poem #youth

[itsketush-voyaging]

#Tobias Menzies #When You Are Old #w.b.yeats #poems #poetry #Youtube

[allyouknowisalie]

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.

When You Are Old by W.B.Yeats 

#txt #W.B.Yeats

[streetsofdublin]

THE PEACE PARK

The Peace Park is a small public park located across from Christchurch Cathedral on the corner of Nicholas Street and Christchurch Place in the Liberties area of Dublin city centre. It was dedicated to Ireland's desire for peace in 1988 during the Trouble

IS A SMALL POCKET PARK ACROSS THE STREET FROM CHRIST CHURCH CATHEDRAL The Peace Park is a small public park located across from Christchurch Cathedral on the corner of Nicholas Street and Christchurch Place in the Liberties area of Dublin city centre. It was dedicated to Ireland’s desire for peace in 1988 during the Troubles. The park was designed as a sunken garden, with an aim towards…

View On WordPress

#Artist #Belgium #Christ Church Cathedral #First World War #Flanders Fields memorial #Leo Higgins #memorial #oitering.antisocial behaviour #Patrick Kavanagh #Peace Park #rainwater #Seamus Heaney #soil from Flanders #Tree Of Life #unken garden #W.B.Yeats

[wakamotogarou]

A Dialogue of Self and Soul

by William Butler Yeats

i{My Soul} I summon to the winding ancient stair; Set all your mind upon the steep ascent, Upon the broken, crumbling battlement, Upon the breathless starlit air, 'Upon the star that marks the hidden pole; Fix every wandering thought upon That quarter where all thought is done: Who can distinguish darkness from the soul i{My Self}. The consecretes blade upon my knees Is Sato's ancient blade, still as it was, Still razor-keen, still like a looking-glass Unspotted by the centuries; That flowering, silken, old embroidery, torn From some court-lady's dress and round The wodden scabbard bound and wound Can, tattered, still protect, faded adorn i{My Soul.} Why should the imagination of a man Long past his prime remember things that are Emblematical of love and war? Think of ancestral night that can, If but imagination scorn the earth And interllect is wandering To this and that and t'other thing, Deliver from the crime of death and birth. i{My self.} Montashigi, third of his family, fashioned it Five hundred years ago, about it lie Flowers from I know not what embroidery - Heart's purple - and all these I set For emblems of the day against the tower Emblematical of the night, And claim as by a soldier's right A charter to commit the crime once more. i{My Soul.} Such fullness in that quarter overflows And falls into the basin of the mind That man is stricken deaf and dumb and blind, For intellect no longer knows i{Is} from the i{Ought,} or i{knower} from the i{Known - } That is to say, ascends to Heaven; Only the dead can be forgiven; But when I think of that my tongue's a stone. i{My Self.} A living man is blind and drinks his drop. What matter if the ditches are impure? What matter if I live it all once more? Endure that toil of growing up; The ignominy of boyhood; the distress Of boyhood changing into man; The unfinished man and his pain Brought face to face with his own clumsiness; The finished man among his enemies? - How in the name of Heaven can he escape That defiling and disfigured shape The mirror of malicious eyes Casts upon his eyes until at last He thinks that shape must be his shape? And what's the good of an escape If honour find him in the wintry blast? I am content to live it all again And yet again, if it be life to pitch Into the frog-spawn of a blind man's ditch, A blind man battering blind men; Or into that most fecund ditch of all, The folly that man does Or must suffer, if he woos A proud woman not kindred of his soul. I am content to follow to its source Every event in action or in thought; Measure the lot; forgive myself the lot! When such as I cast out remorse So great a sweetness flows into the breast We must laugh and we must sing, We are blest by everything, Everything we look upon is blest.

#poetry #W.B.Yeats #William Butler Yeats

[fortunaestalta]

#artists on tumblr #ai artwork #horror art #time to slouch off to Bethlehem #W.B.Yeats 1919 poem 'The Second Coming' inspired

[zeewipark]

‘And a softness came from the starlight and filled me full to the bone.’ - W.B.Yeats

© Jee Won Park (ig: zeewipark)

#dreamy #healing #moonlight #fullmoon #ocean #sea #sparkles #starry #nightphotography #night #artwork

[jacques-chap-book]

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

#poetry

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Potnia Theron or "Mistress of Animals"

Potnia theron or "Mistress of Animals" is the figure found more commonly in Minoan and Mycnenaean arts than any other Potnias. She was also known as "Lady of Wild Things", "Mistress of Wild Beasts", and several other similar titles.

[Jerry Jones on Flickr]

* * * *

The Circus Animals’ Desertion

I. I sought a theme and sought for it in vain, I sought it daily for six weeks or so. Maybe at last, being but a broken man, I must be satisfied with my heart, although Winter and summer till old age began My circus animals were all on show, Those stilted boys, that burnished chariot, Lion and woman and the Lord knows what. II What can I but enumerate old themes, First that sea-rider Oisin led by the nose Through three enchanted islands, allegorical dreams, Vain gaiety, vain battle, vain repose, Themes of the embittered heart, or so it seems, That might adorn old songs or courtly shows; But what cared I that set him on to ride, I, starved for the bosom of his faery bride. And then a counter-truth filled out its play, ‘The Countess Cathleen’ was the name I gave it; She, pity-crazed, had given her soul away, But masterful Heaven had intervened to save it. I thought my dear must her own soul destroy So did fanaticism and hate enslave it, And this brought forth a dream and soon enough This dream itself had all my thought and love. And when the Fool and Blind Man stole the bread Cuchulain fought the ungovernable sea; Heart-mysteries there, and yet when all is said It was the dream itself enchanted me: Character isolated by a deed To engross the present and dominate memory. Players and painted stage took all my love, And not those things that they were emblems of. III Those masterful images because complete Grew in pure mind, but out of what began? A mound of refuse or the sweepings of a street, Old kettles, old bottles, and a broken can, Old iron, old bones, old rags, that raving slut Who keeps the till. Now that my ladder’s gone, I must lie down where all the ladders start In the foul rag and bone shop of the heart. The Circus Animals’ Desertion - Yeats

#poem #poetry #The Circus Animals' Desertion #W.B.Yeats #Jerry Jones #Potnia Theron #mistress of animals #Lady of Wild Things

[innervoiceartblog]

“And a softness came from the starlight and filled me full to the bone.”

~ The Wanderings of Oisin by W.B.Yeats

[thetoymakers]

 Come faeries, take me out of this dull world, for I would ride with you upon the wind and dance upon the mountains like a flame. ~ W.B.Yeats

#william butler yeats #artbyme #watercolor #sketchbook #painting #color #wb yeats #yeats #mountains