Еще в школе его друзья Полагали, что будет он знаменитым, Он думал так же, как они, И уже в двадцать лет достиг своего пика. "Ну и что?" - тень Платона спросила: "Ну и что?" Все, что он писал, выходило...и что?" Став взрослым, он решил, Что все, о чем в детстве мечтал, Сбылось и он не отошел ни на йоту От пути, чтобы достичь свой идеал. Но еще громче эта тень спросила: "Ну и что?" Уильям Батлер Йейт

... In the mind alone; He that sings a lasting song Thinks in a marrow-bone; From all that makes a wise old man That can be praised of all; O what am I that I should not seem For the song’s sake a fool? I pray — for fashion’s word is out And prayer comes round again — That I may seem, though I die old, A foolish, passionate man.  --W.B. Yeats Amen, with no limitation as to gender.

...her loosening thighs? How can anybody, laid in that white rush, But feel the strange heart beating where it lies? A shudder in the loins, engenders there The broken wall, the burning roof and tower And Agamemnon dead. Being so caught up, So mastered by the brute blood of the air, Did she put on his knowledge with his power Before the indifferent beak could let her drop? --W.B. Yeats

...in fires of a slanderous tongue. Come, heart, where hill is heaped upon hill: For there the mystical brotherhood Of sun and moon and hollow and wood And river and stream work out their will; And God stands winding His lonely horn, And time and the world are ever in flight; And love is less kind than the grey twilight, And hope is less dear than the dew of the morn. --W.B. Yeats

...pale breast and lingering hand Come from a more dream-heavy land, A more dream-heavy hour than this; And when you sigh from kiss to kiss I hear white Beauty sighing, too, For hours when all must fade like dew, But flame on flame, and deep on deep, Throne over throne where in half sleep, Their swords upon their iron knees, Brood her high lonely mysteries.    ---W.B. Yeats

... From moonlit place to place, The sacred moon overhead Has taken a new phase. Does Minnaloushe know that his pupils Will pass from change to change, And that from round to crescent, From crescent to round they range? Minnaloushe creeps through the grass Alone, important and wise, And lifts to the changing moon His changing eyes. --W.B. Yeats

Where is there hope or deed as fair? The Hosting Of The Sidhe The host is riding from Knocknarea And over the grave of Clooth-na-Bare; Caoilte tossing his burning hair, ...his heart. The host is rushing 'twixt night and day, And where is there hope or deed as fair? Caoilte tossing his burning hair, And Niamh calling Away, come away  

Because something beckons your spirit, too... THE SONG OF WANDERING AENGUS I WENT out to the hazel wood, Because a fire was in my head, And cut and peeled a hazel wand...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.

...com/ And I stumbled this poem. It spoke to me in the moment, so I thought I would share it. When You Are Old by William Butler Yeats (W. B. 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...

... I hate having people behind me anyway (in the sense of reading over ym shoulder). I am convinced she is trying to spy on what I am typing or reading. I have tried to divert suspicion by reading some Yeats poems online, and leaving eBay feedback. My dad's in the garden, playing with somebody's husband's chainsaw. How weirdly Nazi is my house, today? Mother obediently chopping vegetables in the kitchen...