11-9-2000

 

William Butler Yeats

(1865-1939)  

 

 

          An Irish Airman foresees his  Death                                                                 

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;

 

My country is Kiltartan Cross,

 

My countrymen Kiltartan’s poor,

 

No likely end could bring them loss

 

Or leave them happier than before.

 

Nor law, nor duty bade me fight,

 

Nor public man, nor cheering crowds,

 

A lonely impulse of delight

 

Drove to this tumult in the clouds;

 

I balanced all, brought all to mind,

 

The years to come seemed waste of breath,

 

A waste of breath the years behind

 

In balance with this life, this death.  

 

                      The Wild Swans at Coole.  1919.  

                                                       

  The Wheel

 

 THROUGH winter-time we call on spring,
 And through the spring on summer call,
 And when abounding hedges ring
 Declare that winter's best of all;
 And after that there s nothing good
 Because the spring-time has not come -
 Nor know that what disturbs our blood
 Is but its longing for the tomb. 
 
                                   
  The Tower  1928

 

 

The Spur

 

You think it horrible that lust and rage

Should dance attention upon my old age

They were not such a plague when I was young;

What else have I to spur me into song?

 Last poems  1939

1