The Song of Wandering Aengus by William Butler Yeats

The Song of Wandering Aengus

by William Butler Yeats

I went out to the hazel wood,

Because a fire was in my head,

And cut and peeled a hazel wand,

And hooked a berry to a thread;

And when white moths were on the wing,

And moth-like stars were flickering out,

I dropped the berry in a stream

And caught a little silver trout.

When I laid it on the floor

I went to blow the fire a-flame,

But something rustled on the floor,

And someone called me by my name:

It had become a glimmering girl

With apple blossom in her hair

Who called me by my name and ran

And faded through the brightening air.

Though I am old with wandering

Through hollow lands and hilly lands,

I will find out where she has gone,

And kiss her lips and take her hands;

And walk among long dappled grass,

And pluck till time and times are done,

The silver apples of the moon,

The golden apples of the sun.

Great poetry is in the words a poet chooses. I love Yeats way with words. A link to learn more is here. http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/william-butler-yeats 

The Fisherman by William Butler Yeats

The Fisherman

BY WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS

Although I can see him still—

The freckled man who goes

To a gray place on a hill

In gray Connemara clothes

At dawn to cast his flies—

It's long since I began

To call up to the eyes

This wise and simple man.   

All day I'd looked in the face   

What I had hoped it would be   

To write for my own race   

And the reality:   

The living men that I hate,   

The dead man that I loved,   

The craven man in his seat,   

The insolent unreproved—

And no knave brought to book   

Who has won a drunken cheer—

The witty man and his joke   

Aimed at the commonest ear,   

The clever man who cries   

The catch cries of the clown,   

The beating down of the wise   

And great Art beaten down.

Maybe a twelve-month since

Suddenly I began,

In scorn of this audience,

Imagining a man,

And his sun-freckled face

And gray Connemara cloth,

Climbing up to a place

Where stone is dark with froth,

And the down turn of his wrist

When the flies drop in the stream—

A man who does not exist,   

A man who is but a dream;   

And cried, “Before I am old   

I shall have written him one   

Poem maybe as cold   

And passionate as the dawn.”

Powerful poem, in the end it brought me to tears. A link to read more is here. http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/william-butler-yeats

When You are Old by William Butler Yeats

When You Are Old

BY WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS

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.

Aging and poetry, all the memories that seem to become alive. A link to read more is here. http://www.nobelprize.org/nobel_prizes/literature/laureates/1923/yeats-bio.html

Oft, in the Stilly Night (Scotch Air) by Thomas Moore

Oft, in the Stilly Night (Scotch Air)

BY THOMAS MOORE

Oft, in the stilly night,

Ere slumber’s chain has bound me,

Fond memory brings the light

Of other days around me;

The smiles, the tears,

Of boyhood’s years,

The words of love then spoken;

The eyes that shone,

Now dimm’d and gone,

The cheerful hearts now broken!

Thus, in the stilly night,

Ere slumber’s chain hath bound me,

Sad memory brings the light

Of other days around me.

When I remember all

The friends, so link’d together,

I’ve seen around me fall,

Like leaves in wintry weather;

I feel like one

Who treads alone

Some banquet-hall deserted,

Whose lights are fled,

Whose garlands dead,

And all but he departed!

Thus, in the stilly night,

Ere slumber’s chain has bound me,

Sad memory brings the light

Of other days around me.

Makes me think of the different periods in life. A link to read more is here. http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/thomas-moore

When You Are Old by William Butler Yeats

When You Are Old

BY WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS

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.

I enjoy reading Yeats poetry. A link to read more is here. http://www.poets.org/poet.php/prmPID/117

Advice to her son on marriage by Mary Barber

Advice to Her Son on Marriage

BY MARY BARBER

from The Conclusion of a Letter to the Rev. Mr C—

When you gain her Affection, take care to preserve it;

Lest others persuade her, you do not deserve it.

Still study to heighten the Joys of her Life;

Not treat her the worse, for her being your Wife.

If in Judgment she errs, set her right, without Pride:

’Tis the Province of insolent Fools, to deride.

A Husband’s first Praise, is a Friend and Protector:

Then change not these Titles, for Tyrant and Hector.

Let your Person be neat, unaffectedly clean,

Tho’ alone with your wife the whole Day you remain.

Chuse Books, for her study, to fashion her Mind,

To emulate those who excell’d of her Kind.

Be Religion the principal Care of your Life,

As you hope to be blest in your Children and Wife:

So you, in your Marriage, shall gain its true End;

And find, in your Wife, a Companion and Friend.

Good words to keep close to your heart. A link to learn more about 

this poet. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mary_Barber

The Lake Isle of Innisfree by William Butler Yeats

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 made;

Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee,

And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,

Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;

There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,

And evening full of the linnet’s wings.

I will arise and go now, for always night and day

I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;

While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,

I hear it in the deep heart’s core.

Lovely imagery. A link to read more. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/W._B._Yeats

Down By the Salley Gardens by William Butler Yeats

Down By the Salley Gardens

BY WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS

Down by the salley gardens

   my love and I did meet;

She passed the salley gardens

   with little snow-white feet.

She bid me take love easy,

   as the leaves grow on the tree;

But I, being young and foolish,

   with her would not agree.

In a field by the river

   my love and I did stand,

And on my leaning shoulder

   she laid her snow-white hand.

She bid me take life easy,

   as the grass grows on the weirs;

But I was young and foolish,

   and now am full of tears.   

I am a fan of the imagery in this poem. I have included a link to read more. http://www.poetryfoundations.org/bio/william-butler-yeats

Song by James Joyce

Song

BY JAMES JOYCE

My love is in a light attire

     Among the apple trees,

Where the gay winds do most desire

     To run in companies.

There, where the gay winds stay to woo

     The young leaves as they pass,

My love goes slowly, bending to

     Her shadow on the grass.

And where the sky’s a pale blue cup

     Over the laughing land,

My love goes lightly, holding up

     Her dress with dainty hand.

Lovely wording and images. A link to read more about this poet. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/James_Joyce