The Peacock : : by William Butler Yeats What’s riches to himThat has made a great peacockWith the pride of his eye?The wind-beaten, stone-grey,And desolate Three RockWould nourish his whim.Live he or dieAmid wet rocks and heather,His ghost will be gayAdding feather to featherFor the pride of his eye. — W B Yeats “The Peacock”FirstContinue reading “The Peacock : William Butler Yeats : : Bird Poems : :”
Tag Archives: W B Yeats
The Wild Swans at Coole : William Butler Yeats : : October Poems : : Months Poems : :
The Wild Swans at Coole BY WILLIAM BUTLER YEATSThe trees are in their autumn beauty,The woodland paths are dry,Under the October twilight the waterMirrors a still sky;Upon the brimming water among the stonesAre nine-and-fifty swans. The nineteenth autumn has come upon meSince I first made my count;I saw, before I had well finished,All suddenly mountAndContinue reading “The Wild Swans at Coole : William Butler Yeats : : October Poems : : Months Poems : :”
September 1913 : W B Yeats : : September Poems : : Months Poems : :
September 1913BY WILLIAM BUTLER YEATSWhat need you, being come to sense,But fumble in a greasy tillAnd add the halfpence to the penceAnd prayer to shivering prayer, untilYou have dried the marrow from the bone;For men were born to pray and save:Romantic Ireland’s dead and gone,It’s with O’Leary in the grave. Yet they were of aContinue reading “September 1913 : W B Yeats : : September Poems : : Months Poems : :”
Among School Children : W B Yeats : : School Poems : :
Among School ChildrenBY WILLIAM BUTLER YEATSI I walk through the long schoolroom questioning;A kind old nun in a white hood replies;The children learn to cipher and to sing,To study reading-books and history,To cut and sew, be neat in everythingIn the best modern way—the children’s eyesIn momentary wonder stare uponA sixty-year-old smiling public man. II IContinue reading “Among School Children : W B Yeats : : School Poems : :”
A Prayer For My Daughter : W B Yeats : : Daughter’s Poems : : ( 1 ) : :
A Prayer for my DaughterW. B. Yeats Once more the storm is howling, and half hidUnder this cradle-hood and coverlidMy child sleeps on. There is no obstacleBut Gregory’s wood and one bare hillWhereby the haystack- and roof-levelling wind,Bred on the Atlantic, can be stayed;And for an hour I have walked and prayedBecause of the greatContinue reading “A Prayer For My Daughter : W B Yeats : : Daughter’s Poems : : ( 1 ) : :”
MADHU MALTI 