Yeats Died Saturday In France

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1. To a Canadian Aviator Who Died for his Country in France Tossed like a falcon from the hunter’s wrist, A sweeping plunge, a sudden shattering noise, And thou hast dared, with a long spiral twist, The elastic stairway to the rising sun. Peril below thee and above, peril Within thy car; but peril cannot daunt Thy peerless heart: gathering wing and poise, Thy plane transfigured, and […]...
2. France, the 18th year of These States 1 A GREAT year and place; A harsh, discordant, natal scream out-sounding, to touch the mother’s heart closer than any yet. I walk’d the shores of my Eastern Sea, Heard over the waves the little voice, Saw the divine infant, where she woke, mournfully wailing, amid the roar of cannon, curses, shouts, crash of falling […]...
3. The Name of France Give us a name to fill the mind With the shining thoughts that lead mankind, The glory of learning, the joy of art, A name that tells of a splendid part In the long, long toil and the strenuous fight Of the human race to win its way From the feudal darkness into the day […]...
4. To His Watch Mortal my mate, bearing my rock-a-heart Warm beat with cold beat company, shall I Earlier or you fail at our force, and lie The ruins of, rifled, once a world of art? The telling time our task is; time’s some part, Not all, but we were framed to fail and die – One spell and […]...
5. O Star of France 1 O STAR of France! The brightness of thy hope and strength and fame, Like some proud ship that led the fleet so long, Beseems to-day a wreck, driven by the gale-a mastless hulk; And ‘mid its teeming, madden’d, half-drown’d crowds, Nor helm nor helmsman. 2 Dim, smitten star! Orb not of France alone-pale symbol […]...
6. Somewhere upon the general Earth Somewhere upon the general Earth Itself exist Today The Magic passive but extant That consecrated me Indifferent Seasons doubtless play Where I for right to be Would pay each Atom that I am But Immortality Reserving that but just to prove Another Date of Thee Oh God of Width, do not for us Curtail Eternity!...
7. To a Blackbird and His Mate Who Died in the Spring (For Kenton) An iron hand has stilled the throats That throbbed with loud and rhythmic glee And dammed the flood of silver notes That drenched the world in melody. The blosmy apple boughs are yearning For their wild choristers’ returning, But no swift wings flash through the tree. Ye that were glad and fleet and […]...
8. France She triumphs, in the vivid green Where sun and quivering foliage meet; And in each soldier’s heart serene; When death stood near them they have seen The radiant forests where her feet Move on a breeze of silver sheen. And they are fortunate, who fight For gleaming landscapes swept and shafted And crowned by cloud […]...
9. O Glorious France You have become a forge of snow-white fire, A crucible of molten steel, O France! Your sons are stars who cluster to a dawn And fade in light for you, O glorious France! They pass through meteor changes with a song Which to all islands and all continents Says life is neither comfort, wealth, nor […]...
10. The Young that Died in Beauty If souls should only sheen so bright In heaven as in e’thly light, An’ nothen better wer the cease, How comely still, in sheape an’ feace, Would many reach thik happy pleace, – The hopevul souls that in their prime Ha’ seem’d a-took avore their time, – The young that died in beauty. But when […]...
11. 83. The Cotter's Saturday Night MY lov’d, my honour’d, much respected friend! No mercenary bard his homage pays; With honest pride, I scorn each selfish end, My dearest meed, a friend’s esteem and praise: To you I sing, in simple Scottish lays, The lowly train in life’s sequester’d scene, The native feelings strong, the guileless ways, What Aiken in a […]...
12. To A Poet That Died Young Minstrel, what have you to do With this man that, after you, Sharing not your happy fate, Sat as England’s Laureate? Vainly, in these iron days, Strives the poet in your praise, Minstrel, by whose singing side Beauty walked, until you died. Still, though none should hark again, Drones the blue-fly in the pane, Thickly […]...
13. TO WILLIAM E. CHANNING The pages of thy book I read, And as I closed each one, My heart, responding, ever said, “Servant of God! well done!” Well done! Thy words are great and bold; At times they seem to me, Like Luther’s, in the days of old, Half-battles for the free. Go on, until this land revokes The […]...
14. Saturday's Child Some are teethed on a silver spoon, With the stars strung for a rattle; I cut my teeth as the black racoon For implements of battle. Some are swaddled in silk and down, And heralded by a star; They swathed my limbs in a sackcloth gown On a night that was black as tar. For […]...
15. Saturday Morning Everyone who made love the night before Was walking around with flashing red lights On top of their heads-a white-haired old gentlemen, A red-faced schoolboy, a pregnant woman Who smiled at me from across the street And gave a little secret shrug, As if the flashing red light on her head Was a small price […]...
16. Saturday At The Canal I was hoping to be happy by seventeen. School was a sharp check mark in the roll book, An obnoxious tuba playing at noon because our team Was going to win at night. The teachers were Too close to dying to understand. The hallways Stank of poor grades and unwashed hair. Thus, A friend and […]...
17. Saturday Paseo: Adelina Oranges Do not grow in the sea Neither is there love in Sevilla. You in Dark and the I the sun that’s hot, Loan me your parasol. I’ll wear my jealous reflection, Juice of lemon and lime- And your words, Your sinful little words- Will swim around awhile. Oranges Do not grow in the sea, […]...
18. Saturday Night in the Parthenon Tiny green birds skate over the surface of the room. A naked girl prepares a basin with steaming water, And in the corner away from the hearth, the red wheels Of an up-ended chariot slowly turn. After a long moment, the door to the other world opens And the golden figure of a man appears. […]...
19. France: An Ode EXCERPT] … O Liberty! with profitless endeavour Have I pursued thee, many a weary hour ; But thou nor swell’st the victor’s strain, nor ever Didst breathe thy soul in forms of human power. Alike from all, howe’er they praise thee, (Nor prayer, nor boastful name delays thee) [Image]Alike from Priestcraft’s harpy minions, And factious […]...
20. The First Grenadier of France ‘Twas in a certain regiment of French Grenadiers, A touching and beautiful custom was observed many years; Which was meant to commemorate the heroism of a departed comrade, And when the companies assembled for parade, There was one name at roll call to which no answer was made It was that of the noble La […]...
21. His Dream I swayed upon the gaudy stem The butt-end of a steering-oar, And saw wherever I could turn A crowd upon a shore. And though I would have hushed the crowd, There was no mother’s son but said, “What is the figure in a shroud Upon a gaudy bed?’ And after running at the brim Cried […]...
22. Ode in Memory of the American Volunteers Fallen for France I Ay, it is fitting on this holiday, Commemorative of our soldier dead, When with sweet flowers of our New England May Hiding the lichened stones by fifty years made gray Their graves in every town are garlanded, That pious tribute should be given too To our intrepid few Obscurely fallen here beyond the seas. […]...
23. Right in Front of the Army “Where ‘ave you been this week or more, ‘Aven’t seen you about the war’? Thought perhaps you was at the rear Guarding the waggons.” “What, us? No fear! Where have we been? Why, bless my heart, Where have we been since the bloomin’ start? Right in the front of the army, Battling day and night! […]...
24. To the Memory of Mrs. Lefroy who died Dec:r 16 my Birthday The day returns again, my natal day; What mix’d emotions with the Thought arise! Beloved friend, four years have pass’d away Since thou wert snatch’d forever from our eyes. The day, commemorative of my birth Bestowing Life and Light and Hope on me, Brings back the hour which was thy last on Earth. Oh! bitter […]...
25. She died this was the way she died She died this was the way she died. And when her breath was done Took up her simple wardrobe And started for the sun. Her little figure at the gate The Angels must have spied, Since I could never find her Upon the mortal side....
26. A Dog Has Died My dog has died. I buried him in the garden Next to a rusted old machine. Some day I’ll join him right there, But now he’s gone with his shaggy coat, His bad manners and his cold nose, And I, the materialist, who never believed In any promised heaven in the sky For any human […]...
27. Here Died There’s many a schoolboy’s bat and ball that are gathering dust at home, For he hears a voice in the future call, and he trains for the war to come; A serious light in his eyes is seen as he comes from the schoolhouse gate; He keeps his kit and his rifle clean, and he […]...
28. She died at play She died at play, Gambolled away Her lease of spotted hours, Then sank as gaily as a Turn Upon a Couch of flowers. Her ghost strolled softly o’er the hill Yesterday, and Today, Her vestments as the silver fleece Her countenance as spray....
29. Midsummer, was it, when They died Midsummer, was it, when They died A full, and perfect time The Summer closed upon itself In Consummated Bloom The Corn, her furthest kernel filled Before the coming Flail When These leaned unto Perfectness Through Haze of Burial...
30. UPON A CHILD THAT DIED Here she lies, a pretty bud, Lately made of flesh and blood; Who as soon fell fast asleep, As her little eyes did peep. Give her strewings, but not stir The earth, that lightly covers her....
31. To A Stuffed Shirt On the tide you ride head high, Like a whale ‘mid little fishes; I should envy you as I Help my wife to wash the dishes. Yet frock-coat and stove-pipe hat Cannot hide your folds of fat. You are reckoned a success, And the public praise you win; There’s your picture in the Press, Pouchy […]...
32. Died of Wounds His wet white face and miserable eyes Brought nurses to him more than groans and sighs: But hoarse and low and rapid rose and fell His troubled voice: he did the business well. The ward grew dark; but he was still complaining And calling out for ‘Dickie’. ‘Curse the Wood! ‘It’s time to go. O […]...
33. How Gilbert Died There’s never a stone at the sleeper’s head, There’s never a fence beside, And the wandering stock on the grave may tread Unnoticed and undenied; But the smallest child on the Watershed Can tell you how Gilbert died. For he rode at dusk with his comrade Dunn To the hut at the Stockman’s Ford; In […]...
34. When I was small, a Woman died When I was small, a Woman died Today her Only Boy Went up from the Potomac His face all Victory To look at her How slowly The Seasons must have turned Till Bullets clipt an Angle And He passed quickly round If pride shall be in Paradise Ourself cannot decide Of their imperial Conduct No […]...
35. 'Twas just this time, last year, I died ‘Twas just this time, last year, I died. I know I heard the Corn, When I was carried by the Farms It had the Tassels on I thought how yellow it would look When Richard went to mill And then, I wanted to get out, But something held my will. I thought just how Red […]...
36. I died for Beauty but was scarce I died for Beauty but was scarce Adjusted in the Tomb When One who died for Truth, was lain In an adjoining room He questioned softly “Why I failed”? “For Beauty”, I replied “And I for Truth Themself are One We Brethren, are”, He said And so, as Kinsmen, met a Night We talked between […]...
37. I heard a Fly buzz when I died I heard a Fly buzz when I died The Stillness in the Room Was like the Stillness in the Air Between the Heaves of Storm The Eyes around had wrung them dry And Breaths were gathering firm For that last Onset when the King Be witnessed in the Room I willed my Keepsakes Signed away […]...
38. For Harry (My College Room-mate who Died) He cut his hand and it bled, the flesh Inside was red and the hurt discounted the flood Of red and vibrant blood that pulsed From the wound. But he was a warrior, A son whose mien would not countenance the pain And he bound the wound in strips of flax And stalked from the […]...
39. What Can We Do? at their best, there is gentleness in Humanity. Some understanding and, at times, acts of Courage But all in all it is a mass, a glob that doesn’t Have too much. It is like a large animal deep in sleep and Almost nothing can awaken it. When activated it’s best at brutality, Selfishness, unjust judgments, […]...
40. Song's Eternity What is song’s eternity? Come and see. Can it noise and bustle be? Come and see. Praises sung or praises said Can it be? Wait awhile and these are dead – Sigh, sigh; Be they high or lowly bred They die. What is song’s eternity? Come and see. Melodies of earth and sky, Here they […]...