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…
read this poet’s poems Born in Sandymount, Dublin, Ireland, on June 13, 1865, William Butler Yeats was the son of the well-known Irish painter, John Butler Yeats. He spent his childhood in County Sligo, where his parents were raised, and in London. He returned to Dublin at the age of fifteen to continue his education and to study painting, but quickly discovered that he preferred poetry. Born into the Anglo-Irish landowning class, Yeats became involved with the Celtic Revival, a movement against the cultural influences of English rule in Ireland during the Victorian period, which sought to promote the spirit of Ireland’s native heritage. Though Yeats never learned Irish Gaelic himself, his writing at the turn of the century drew extensively from sources in Irish mythology and folklore. Also a potent influence on his poetry was the Irish revolutionary, Maud Gonne, whom he met in 1889, a woman equally famous for her passionate nationalist politics and her beauty. Though she married another man in 1903 and grew apart from Yeats (and Yeats himself was eventually married to another woman, Georgie Hyde Lees), she remained a powerful figure in his poetry. Yeats was deeply involved in politics in Ireland and, in the twenties, despite Irish independence from England, his verse reflected a pessimism about the political situation in Ireland and the rest of Europe, paralleling the increasing conservatism of his American counterparts in London, T. S. Eliot and Ezra Pound. His work after 1910 was strongly influenced by Pound, becoming more modern in its concision and imagery, but Yeats never abandoned his strict adherence to traditional verse forms. He had a life-long interest in mysticism and the occult, which was off-putting to some readers, but he remained uninhibited in advancing his idiosyncratic philosophy, and his poetry continued to grow stronger as he grew older. Appointed a senator of the Irish Free State in 1922, he is remembered as an important cultural leader, a major playwright (he was one of the founders of the famous Abbey Theatre in Dublin), and as one of the greatest poets in any language of the twentieth century. William Butler Yeats was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1923 and died on January 28, 1939, in Roquebrune-Cap-Martin, France.
- The Collected Poems of W. B. Yeats (Macmillan, 1933)
- The Poetical Works of William B. Yeats (Macmillan, 1906)
W. B. Yeats şiirleri
O cloud-pale eyelids, dream-dimmed eyes, The poets labouring all their days To build a perfect beauty in rhyme Are overthrown by a woman’s gaze…
Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths, Enwrought with golden and silver light, The blue and the dim and the dark cloths Of night and light and the half light,…
I know that I shall meet my fate Somewhere among the clouds above; Those that I fight I do not hate Those that I guard I do not love;…
I have met them at close of day Coming with vivid faces From counter or desk among grey Eighteenth-century houses.…
Having inherited a vigorous mind From my old fathers I must nourish dreams And leave a woman and a man behind As vigorous of mind, and yet it seems…
Two heavy tressels, and a board Where Sato’s gift, a changeless sword, By pen and paper lies, That it may moralise…
Never give all the heart, for love Will hardly seem worth thinking of To passionate women if it seem Certain, and they never dream…
Why should I blame her that she filled my days With misery, or that she would of late Have taught to ignorant men most violent ways, Or hurled the little streets upon the great,…
Hands, do what you’re bid: Bring the balloon of the mind That bellies and drags in the wind Into its narrow shed.
O sweet everlasting Voices be still; Go to the guards of the heavenly fold And bid them wander obeying your will Flame under flame, till Time be no more;…
O’Driscoll drove with a song, The wild duck and the drake, From the tall and the tufted weeds Of the drear Hart Lake.…
Though you are in your shining days, Voices among the crowd And new friends busy with your praise, Be not unkind or proud,…
Now as at all times I can see in the mind’s eye, In their stiff, painted clothes, the pale unsatisfied ones Appear and disappear in the blue depth of the sky With all their ancient…
Time drops in decay, Like a candle burnt out, And the mountains and the woods Have their day, have their day;…
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