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#yeats
ztebanzmuseum · 19 hours ago
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Jack Butler Yeats - About to Write a Letter
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National Gallery of Ireland, Dublin
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villings · a day ago
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Pensé en tu belleza, y esta flecha, hecha de pensamientos insensatos, está en mi médula. Ningún hombre puede contemplarla, ninguno, recién llegada a su condición de mujer, alta y noble, pero con rostro y pecho del color delicado de la flor del manzano. Es más amable esta belleza, mas por una razón podría llorar yo porque lo viejo ha pasado.
La flecha | William Butler Yeats
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cherry-tree-breeze · a day ago
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Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.
“The Stolen Child”
~W.B Yeats ✨
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sweetsncakesarte · 2 days ago
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Jack Butler Yeats The Weir
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adamn-this-cryinggeek · 4 days ago
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do you ever just have this urge to read each and EVERY poem that is there in this world? of ALL languages? 'cause i do. every damn time.
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VI—The Stare’s Nest By My Window ~ W.B. Yeats
The bees build in the crevices Of loosening masonry, and there The mother birds bring grubs and flies. My wall is loosening, honey bees Come build in the empty house of the stare.
We are closed in, and the key is turned On our uncertainty; somewhere A man is killed, or a house burned, Yet no clear fact to be discerned: Come build in the empty house of the stare
A barricade of stone or of wood; Some fourteen days of civil war; Last night they trundled down the road That dead young soldier in his blood: Come build in the empty house of the stare.
We had fed the heart on fantasies, The heart’s grown brutal from the fare, More substance in our enmities Than in our love; oh, honey-bees Come build in the empty house of the stare.
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poetictouch · 5 days ago
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When You Are Old by William Butler Yeats - Read by Nicholas Boulton
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intelligentdeviant · 6 days ago
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“Surely some revelation is at hand.”
[W.B. Yeats]
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intelligentdeviant · 6 days ago
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“The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.”
[W.B. Yeats]
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cidsin · 6 days ago
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Mermay 2021 Day 11 Art and Character by me @cidsin William Yeats as a cancer merman
So this time done right xD corrected Day 10 on the sign ... *cough* Pisces is much later!
so for now, shy William on the look out there, he would be a careful merman. 
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The Second Coming
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 hat 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 toward Bethlehem to be born?
— William Butler Yeats
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apoemaday · 9 days ago
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Adam’s Curse
by W.B. Yeats
We sat together at one summer’s end, That beautiful mild woman, your close friend,   And you and I, and talked of poetry. I said, ‘A line will take us hours maybe; Yet if it does not seem a moment’s thought,   Our stitching and unstitching has been naught.   Better go down upon your marrow-bones   And scrub a kitchen pavement, or break stones   Like an old pauper, in all kinds of weather;   For to articulate sweet sounds together Is to work harder than all these, and yet   Be thought an idler by the noisy set Of bankers, schoolmasters, and clergymen   The martyrs call the world.’                                           And thereupon That beautiful mild woman for whose sake   There’s many a one shall find out all heartache   On finding that her voice is sweet and low   Replied, ‘To be born woman is to know— Although they do not talk of it at school— That we must labour to be beautiful.’ I said, ‘It’s certain there is no fine thing   Since Adam’s fall but needs much labouring. There have been lovers who thought love should be   So much compounded of high courtesy   That they would sigh and quote with learned looks   Precedents out of beautiful old books;   Yet now it seems an idle trade enough.’ We sat grown quiet at the name of love;   We saw the last embers of daylight die,   And in the trembling blue-green of the sky   A moon, worn as if it had been a shell   Washed by time’s waters as they rose and fell   About the stars and broke in days and years. I had a thought for no one’s but your ears:   That you were beautiful, and that I strove   To love you in the old high way of love; That it had all seemed happy, and yet we’d grown   As weary-hearted as that hollow moon.
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spellwardbound · 9 days ago
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Time drops in decay,
Like a candle burnt out,
And the mountains and the woods
Have their day, have their day;
What one in the rout
Of the fire-born moods
Has fallen away?
-William Butler Yeats
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macrolit · 10 days ago
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Literary history that happened on 8 May
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