Poems by William Butler Yeats

Poems by William Butler Yeats

My Descendants, by William Butler Yeats

Having inherited a vigorous mindFrom my old fathers I must nourish dreamsAnd leave a woman and a ...

My Table, by William Butler Yeats

Two heavy tressels, and a boardWhere Sato’s gift, a changeless sword,By pen and paper lies,That i...

VI—The Stare’s Nest By My Window , by William Butler Yeats

The bees build in the crevicesOf loosening masonry, and thereThe mother birds bring grubs and fli...

The Road at My Door, by William Butler Yeats

An affable Irregular,A heavily-built Falstaffan man,Comes cracking jokes of civil warAs though to...

Youth and Age, by William Butler Yeats

Much did I rage when young,Being by the World oppressed,But now with flattering tongueIt speeds t...

The Second Coming, by William Butler Yeats

Turning and turning in the widening gyreThe falcon cannot hear the falconer;Things fall apart; th...

The Heart of the Woman, by William Butler Yeats

O what to me the little room
That was brimmed up with prayer and rest;
He bade me out into ...

The Lake Isle of Innisfree, by William Butler Yeats

I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles m...

Leda and the Swan, by William Butler Yeats

A sudden blow: the great wings beating stillAbove the staggering girl, her thighs caressedBy the ...

Aedh Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven, by William Butler Yeats

Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,Enwrought with golden and silver light,The blue and the dim...

The Stolen Child, by William Butler Yeats

Where dips the rocky highlandOf Sleuth Wood in the lake,There lies a leafy islandWhere flapping h...

A Prayer for my Daughter, by William Butler Yeats

Once more the storm is howling, and half hidUnder this cradle-hood and coverlidMy child sleeps on...

An Irish Airman Foresees His Death, by William Butler Yeats

I know that I shall meet my fateSomewhere among the clouds above;Those that I fight I do not hate...

The Falling of the Leaves , by William Butler Yeats

Autumn is over the long leaves that love us,And over the mice in the barley sheaves;Yellow the le...

The Tower, by William Butler Yeats

                               IWhat shall I do with this absurdity—O heart, O troubled heart—thi...