Early Poems

Overview

One of the greatest poets of the century, Yeats drew upon Irish folklore and myth as inspiration for much of his early poetry. Mythic themes and others are masterfully explored in this rich selection of 134 poems published between 1889 and 1914. Included are such favorites as "Lake Isle of Innisfree," "When You Are Old," "Down by the Salley Gardens," "The Stolen Child," "Fergus and the Druid," "To the Rose upon the Rood of Time," "The Song of Wandering Aengus," "The Fascination of What’s Difficult" and many more....

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Early Poems

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Overview

One of the greatest poets of the century, Yeats drew upon Irish folklore and myth as inspiration for much of his early poetry. Mythic themes and others are masterfully explored in this rich selection of 134 poems published between 1889 and 1914. Included are such favorites as "Lake Isle of Innisfree," "When You Are Old," "Down by the Salley Gardens," "The Stolen Child," "Fergus and the Druid," "To the Rose upon the Rood of Time," "The Song of Wandering Aengus," "The Fascination of What’s Difficult" and many more. Note. Alphabetical lists of titles and first lines. Includes a selection from the Common Core State Standards Initiative: "The Song of Wandering Aengus."

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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780486278087
  • Publisher: Dover Publications
  • Publication date: 12/23/1993
  • Series: Dover Thrift Editions Series
  • Edition description: Unabridged
  • Pages: 128
  • Sales rank: 834,316
  • Product dimensions: 5.22 (w) x 8.22 (h) x 0.39 (d)

Read an Excerpt

Early Poems


By William Butler Yeats, Shane Weller

Dover Publications, Inc.

Copyright © 1993 Dover Publications, Inc.
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-486-15945-4



CHAPTER 1

CROSSWAYS


"The stars are threshed, and the souls are threshed from their husks." WILLIAM BLAKE.


    To A. E.

    The Song of the Happy Shepherd

    The woods of Arcady are dead,
    And over is their antique joy;
    Of old the world on dreaming fed;
    Gray Truth is now her painted toy;
    Yet still she turns her restless head:
    But O, sick children of the world,
    Of all the many changing things
    In dreary dancing past us whirled,
    To the cracked tune that Chronos sings,
    Words alone are certain good.
    Where are now the warring kings,
    Word be-mockers?—By the Rood
    Where are now the warring kings?
    An idle word is now their glory,
    By the stammering schoolboy said,
    Reading some entangled story:
    The kings of the old time are fled.
    The wandering earth herself may be
    Only a sudden flaming word,
    In clanging space a moment heard,
    Troubling the endless reverie.

    Then nowise worship dusty deeds,
    Nor seek; for this is also sooth;
    To hunger fiercely after truth,
    Lest all thy toiling only breeds
    New dreams, new dreams; there is no truth
    Saving in thine own heart. Seek, then,
    No learning from the starry men,
    Who follow with the optic glass
    The whirling ways of stars that pass—
    Seek, then, for this is also sooth,
    No word of theirs—the cold star-bane
    Has cloven and rent their hearts in twain,
    And dead is all their human truth.
    Go gather by the humming-sea
    Some twisted, echo-harbouring shell,
    And to its lips thy story tell,
    And they thy comforters will be,
    Rewarding in melodious guile,
    Thy fretful words a little while,
    Till they shall singing fade in ruth,
    And die a pearly brotherhood;
    For words alone are certain good:
    Sing, then, for this is also sooth.

    I must be gone: there is a grave
    Where daffodil and lily wave,
    And I would please the hapless faun,
    Buried under the sleepy ground,
    With mirthful songs before the dawn.
    His shouting days with mirth were crowned;
    And still I dream he treads the lawn,
    Walking ghostly in the dew,
    Pierced by my glad singing through,
    My songs of old earth's dreamy youth:
    But ah! she dreams not now; dream thou!
    For fair are poppies on the brow:
    Dream, dream, for this is also sooth.


    The Sad Shepherd

    There was a man whom Sorrow named his friend,
    And he, of his high comrade Sorrow dreaming,
    Went walking with slow steps along the gleaming
    And humming sands, where windy surges wend:
    And he called loudly to the stars to bend
    From their pale thrones and comfort him, but they
    Among themselves laugh on and sing alway:
    And then the man whom Sorrow named his friend
    Cried out, Dim sea, hear my most piteous story!
    The sea swept on and cried her old cry still,
    Rolling along in dreams from hill to hill;
    He fled the persecution of her glory
    And, in a far-off, gentle valley stopping,
    Cried all his story to the dewdrops glistening,
    But naught they heard, for they are always listening,
    The dewdrops, for the sound of their own dropping.
    And then the man whom Sorrow named his friend,
    Sought once again the shore, and found a shell,
    And thought, I will my heavy story tell
    Till my own words, re-echoing, shall send
    Their sadness through a hollow, pearly heart;
    And my own tale again for me shall sing,
    And my own whispering words be comforting,
    And lo! my ancient burden may depart.

    Then he sang softly nigh the pearly rim;
    But the sad dweller by the sea-ways lone
    Changed all he sang to inarticulate moan
    Among her wildering whirls, forgetting him.


    The Cloak, the Boat, and the Shoes

    "What do you make so fair and bright?"

    "I make the cloak of Sorrow:
    "O, lovely to see in all men's sight
    "Shall be the cloak of Sorrow,
    "In all men's sight."

    "What do you build with sails for flight?"

    "I build a boat for Sorrow,
    "O, swift on the seas all day and night
    "Saileth the rover Sorrow,
    "All day and night."

    "What do you weave with wool so white?"
    "I weave the shoes of Sorrow,
    "Soundless shall be the footfall light
    "In all men's ears of Sorrow,
    "Sudden and light."


Anashuya and Vijaya

A little Indian temple in the Golden Age. Around it a garden; around that the forest. ANASHUYA, the young priestess, kneeling within the temple.

    ANASHUYA

    Send peace on all the lands and flickering corn.—
    O, may tranquillity walk by his elbow
    When wandering in the forest, if he love
    No other.—Hear, and may the indolent flocks
    Be plentiful.—And if he love another,
    May panthers end him.—Hear, and load our king
    With wisdom hour by hour.—May we two stand,
    When we are dead, beyond the setting suns,
    A little from the other shades apart,
    With mingling hair, and play upon one lute.
    VIJAYA [entering and throwing a lily at her]
    Hail! hail, my Anashuya.

    ANASHUYA

    No: be still.
    I, priestess of this temple, offer up
    Prayers for the land.

    VIJAYA

    I will wait here, Amrita.

    ANASHUYA

    By mighty Brahma's ever rustling robe,
    Who is Amrita? Sorrow of all sorrows!
    Another fills your mind.

    VIJAYA

    My mother's name.
    ANASHUYA [sings, coming out of the temple]
    A sad, sad thought went by me slowly:
    Sigh, O you little stars! O, sigh and shake your blue apparel!
    The sad, sad thought has gone from me now wholly:
    Sing, O you little stars! O, sing and raise your rapturous carol
    To mighty Brahma, he who made you many as the sands,
    And laid you on the gates of evening with his quiet hands.

    [Sits down on the steps of the temple.]
    Vijaya, I have brought my evening rice;
    The sun has laid his chin on the gray wood,
    Weary, with all his poppies gathered round him.

    VIJAYA

    The hour when Kama, 2 full of sleepy laughter,
    Rises, and showers abroad his fragrant arrows,
    Piercing the twilight with their murmuring barbs.

    ANASHUYA

    See how the sacred old flamingoes come,
    Painting with shadow all the marble steps:
    Aged and wise, they seek their wonted perches
    Within the temple, devious walking, made
    To wander by their melancholy minds.
    Yon tall one eyes my supper; swiftly chase him
    Far, far away. I named him after you.
    He is a famous fisher; hour by hour
    He ruffles with his bill the minnowed streams.
    Ah! there he snaps my rice. I told you so.
    Now cuff him off. He's off! A kiss for you,
    Because you saved my rice. Have you no thanks?

    VIJAYA [sings]

    Sing you of her, O first few stars,
    Whom Brahma, touching with his finger, praises, for you hold
    The van of wandering quiet; ere you be too calm and old,
    Sing, turning in your cars,
    Sing, till you raise your hands and sigh, and from your car heads peer,
    With all your whirling hair, and drop many an azure tear.


    ANASHUYA

    What know the pilots of the stars of tears?

    VIJAYA

    Their faces are all worn, and in their eyes
    Flashes the fire of sadness, for they see
    The icicles that famish all the north,
    Where men lie frozen in the glimmering snow;
    And in the flaming forests cower the lion
    And lioness, with all their whimpering cubs;
    And, ever pacing on the verge of things,
    The phantom, Beauty, in a mist of tears;
    While we alone have round us woven woods,
    And feel the softness of each other's hand,
    Amrita, white——
    ANASHUYA [going away from him]
    Ah me, you love another,
    [Bursting into tears.]
    And may some dreadful ill befall her quick!

    VIJAYA

    I loved another; now I love no other.
    Among the mouldering of ancient woods
    You live, and on the village border she,
    With her old father the blind wood-cutter;
    I saw her standing in her door but now.

    ANASHUYA

    Vijaya, swear to love her never more.

    VIJAYA

    Ay, ay.

    ANASHUYA

    Swear by the parents of the gods,
    Dread oath, who dwell on sacred Himalay,
    On the far Golden Peak; enormous shapes,
    Who still were old when the great sea was young;
    On their vast faces mystery and dreams;
    Their hair along the mountains rolled and filled
    From year to year by the unnumbered nests
    Of aweless birds, and round their stirless feet
    The joyous flocks of deer and antelope,
    Who never hear the unforgiving hound.
    Swear!

    VIJAYA

    By the parents of the gods, I swear.

    ANASHUYA [sings]

    I have forgiven, O new star!
    Maybe you have not heard of us, you have come forth so newly,
    You hunter of the fields afar!
    Ah, you will know my loved one by his hunter's arrows truly,
    Shoot on him shafts of quietness, that he may ever keep
    An inner laughter, and may kiss his hands to me in sleep.

    Farewell, Vijaya. Nay, no word, no word;
    I, priestess of this temple, offer up
    Prayers for the land.

    [VIJAYA goes.]

    O Brahma, guard in sleep

    The merry lambs and the complacent kine,
    The flies below the leaves, and the young mice
    In the tree roots, and all the sacred flocks
    Of red flamingo; and my love, Vijaya;
    And may no restless fay with fidget finger
    Trouble his sleeping: give him dreams of me.


    The Indian upon God

    I passed along the water's edge below the humid trees,
    My spirit rocked in evening light, the rushes round my knees,
    My spirit rocked in sleep and sighs; and saw the moorfowl pace
    All dripping on a grassy slope, and saw them cease to chase
    Each other round in circles, and heard the eldest speak:
    Who holds the world between His bill and made us strong or weak
    Is an undying moorfowl, and He lives beyond the sky.
    The rains are from His dripping wing, the moonbeams from His eye.

    I passed a little further on and heard a lotus talk:
    Who made the world and ruleth it, He hangeth on a stalk,
    For I am in His image made, and all this tinkling tide
    Is but a sliding drop of rain between His petals wide.

    A little way within the gloom a roebuck raised his eyes
    Brimful of starlight, and he said: The Stamper of the Skies,
    He is a gentle roebuck; for how else, I pray, could He
    Conceive a thing so sad and soft, a gentle thing like me?

    I passed a little further on and heard a peacock say:
    Who made the grass and made the worms and made my feathers gay,
    He is a monstrous peacock, and He waveth all the night
    His languid tail above us, lit with myriad spots of light.



    The Indian to His Love

    The island dreams under the dawn
    And great boughs drop tranquillity;
    The peahens dance on a smooth lawn,
    A parrot sways upon a tree,
    Raging at his own image in the enamelled sea.

    Here we will moor our lonely ship
    And wander ever with woven hands,
    Murmuring softly lip to lip,
    Along the grass, along the sands,
    Murmuring how far away are the unquiet lands:

    How we alone of mortals are
    Hid under quiet bows apart,
    While our love grows an Indian star,
    A meteor of the burning heart,
    One with the tide that gleams, the wings that gleam and dart,

    The heavy boughs, the burnished dove
    That moans and sighs a hundred days:
    How when we die our shades will rove,
    When eve has hushed the feathered ways,
    With vapoury footsole among the waters drowsy blaze.


    The Falling of the Leaves

    Autumn is over the long leaves that love us,
    And over the mice in the barley sheaves;
    Yellow the leaves of the rowan above us,
    And yellow the wet wild-strawberry leaves.

    The hour of the waning of love has beset us,
    And weary and worn are our sad souls now;
    Let us part, ere the season of passion forget us,
    With a kiss and a tear on thy drooping brow.


(Continues...)

Excerpted from Early Poems by William Butler Yeats, Shane Weller. Copyright © 1993 Dover Publications, Inc.. Excerpted by permission of Dover Publications, Inc..
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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Table of Contents

Crossways
  The Song of the Happy Shepherd
  The Sad Shepherd
  "The Cloak, the Boat, and the Shoes"
  Anashuya and Vijaya
  The Indian upon God
  The Indian to His Love
  The Falling of the Leaves
  Ephemera
  the Madness of King Goll
  The Stolen Child
  To an Isle in the Water
  Down by the Salley Gardens
  The Meditation of the Old Fisherman
  the Ballad of Father O'Hart
  The Ballad of Moll Magee
  The Ballad of the Foxhunter
The Rose
  To the Rose upon the Rood of Time
  Fergus and the Druid
  The Death of Cuchulain
  The Rose of the World
  The Rose of Peace
  The Rose of Battle
  A Faery Song
  The Lake Isle of Innisfree
  A Cradle Song
  The Pity of Love
  The Sorrow of Love
  When You Are Old
  The White Birds
  A Dream of Death
  A Dream of a Blessed Spirit
  Who Goes with Fergus?
  The Man Who Dreamed of Faeryland
  The Dedication to a Book of Stories Selected from the Irish Novelists
  The Lamentation of the Old Pensioner
  The Ballad of Father Gilligan
  The Two Trees
  To Some I Have Talked with by the Fire
  To Ireland in the Coming Times
The Wind Among the Reeds
  The Hosting of the Sidhe
  The Everlasting Voices
  The Moods
  Aedh Tells of the Rose in His Heart
  The Host of the Air
  Breasal the Fisherman
  A Cradle Song
  Into the Twilight
  The Song of Wandering Aengus
  The Song of the Old Mother
  The Fiddler of Dooney
  The Heart of the Woman
  Aedh Laments the Loss of Love
  Mongan Laments the Change That Has Come upon Him and His Beloved
  Michael Robartes Bids His Beloved Be at Peace
  Hanrahan Reproves the Curlew
  Michael Robartes Remembers Forgotten Beauty
  A Poet to His Beloved
  Aedh Gives His Beloved Certain Rhymes
  "To My Heart, Bidding It Have No Fear"
  The Cap and Bells
  Th Valley of the Black Pig
  Michael Robartes Asks Forgiveness Because of His Many Moods
  Aedh Tells of a Valley Full of Lovers
  Aedh Tells of the Perfect Beauty
  Aedh Hears the cry of the Sedge
  Aedh Thinks of Those Who Have Spoken Evil of His Beloved
  The Blessed
  Th Secret Rose
  Hanrahan Laments Because of His Wanderings
  The Travail of Passion
  The Poet Pleads with His Friend for Old Friends
  Hanrahan Speaks to the Lovers of His Songs in Coming Days
  Aedh Pleads with the Elemental Powers
  Aedh Wishes His Beloved Were Dead
  Aedh Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven
  Mongan Thinks of His Past Greatness
In the Seven Woods
  In the Seven Woods
  The Arrow
  The Folly of Being Comforted
  The Withering of the Boughs
  Adam's Curse
  The Song of Red Hanrahan
  The Old Men Admiring Themselves in the Water
  Under the Moon
  The Players Ask for a Blessing on the Psalteries and Themselves
  The Rider from the North
The Green Helmet and Other Poems
  His Dream
  A Woman Homer Sung
  The Consolation
  No Second Troy
  Reconciliation
  King and No King
  Peace
  Against Unworthy Praise
  The Fascination of What's Difficult
  A Drinking Song
  The Coming of Wisdom with Time
  "To a Poet, Who Would Have Me Praise Certain Bad Poets, Imitators of His and of Mine"
  A Lyric from an Unpublished Play
  Upon a Threatened House
  These Are the Clouds
  At Galway Races
  A Friends Illness
  All Things Can Tempt Me
  The Young Man's Song
Responsibilities
  "["Pardon, old fathers, if you still remain"]"
  The Grey Rock
  To a Wealthy Man Who Promised a Second Subscription to the Dublin Municipal Gallery if It Were Proved the People Wanted Pictures
  September 1913
  To a Friend Whose Work Has come to Nothing
  Paudeen
  To a Shade
  When Helen Lived
  "The Attack on 'The Playboy of the Western World,' 1907"
  The Three Beggars
  The Three Hermits
  Beggar to Beggar Cried
  Running to Paradise
  The Hour Before Dawn
  The Player Queen (Song from an Unfinished Play)
  The Realists
  I. The Witch
  II. The Peacock
  The Mountain Tomb
  To a Child Dancing in the Wind
  A Memory of youth
  Fallen Majesty
  Friends
  The Cold Heaven
  That the Night Come
  An Appointment
  I. The Magi
  II. The Dolls
  A Coat
Alphabetical List of Titles
Alphabetical List of First Lines
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