Home ⇒ 📌William Butler Yeats ⇒ The Fascination Of What's Difficult
The Fascination Of What's Difficult
The fascination of what’s difficult
Has dried the sap out of my veins, and rent
Spontaneous joy and natural content
Out of my heart. There’s something ails our colt
That must, as if it had not holy blood
Nor on Olympus leaped from cloud to cloud,
Shiver under the lash, strain, sweat and jolt
As though it dragged road-metal. My curse on plays
That have to be set up in fifty ways,
On the day’s war with every knave and dolt,
Theatre business, management of men.
I swear before the dawn comes round again
I’ll find the stable and pull out the bolt.
(2 votes, average: 4.50 out of 5)
Related poetry:
- Against Unworthy Praise O heart, be at peace, because Nor knave nor dolt can break What’s not for their applause, Being for a woman’s sake. Enough if the work has seemed, So did she your strength renew, A dream that a lion had dreamed Till the wilderness cried aloud, A secret between you two, Between the proud and […]...
- Whats The Use Of A Title? They dont make it The beautiful die in flame – Sucide pills, rat poison, rope what – Ever… They rip their arms off, Throw themselves out of windows, They pull their eyes out of the sockets, Reject love Reject hate Reject, reject. They do’nt make it The beautiful can’t endure, They are butterflies They are […]...
- Wisdom of Hafiz: the Philosopher Takes to Racing My son, if you go to the races to battle with Ikey and Mo, Remember, it’s seldom the pigeon can pick out the eye of the crow; Remember, they live by the business; remember, my son, and go slow. If ever an owner should tell you, “Back mine” don’t you be such a flat. He […]...
- The Hawk ‘Call down the hawk from the air; Let him be hooded or caged Till the yellow eye has grown mild, For larder and spit are bare, The old cook enraged, The scullion gone wild.’ ‘I will not be clapped in a hood, Nor a cage, nor alight upon wrist, Now I have learnt to be […]...
- COPTIC SONG LEAVE we the pedants to quarrel and strive, Rigid and cautious the teachers to be! All of the wisest men e’er seen alive Smile, nod, and join in the chorus with me: “Vain ’tis to wait till the dolt grows less silly! Play then the fool with the fool, willy-nilly, Children of wisdom, remember the […]...
- THE YELPERS OUR rides in all directions bend, For business or for pleasure, Yet yelpings on our steps attend, And barkings without measure. The dog that in our stable dwells, After our heels is striding, And all the while his noisy yells But show that we are riding. 1815.*...
- Lines in Defence of the Stage Good people of high and low degree, I pray ye all be advised by me, And don’t believe what the clergy doth say, That by going to the theatre you will be led astray. No, in the theatre we see vice punished and virtue rewarded, The villain either hanged or shot, and his career retarded; […]...
- A Nativity What woman hugs her infant there? Another star has shot an ear. What made the drapery glisten so? Not a man but Delacroix. What made the ceiling waterproof? Landor’s tarpaulin on the roof What brushes fly and moth aside? Irving and his plume of pride. What hurries out the knaye and dolt? Talma and his […]...
- THE RECKONING LEADER. LET no cares now hover o’er us Let the wine unsparing run! Wilt thou swell our merry chorus? Hast thou all thy duty done? SOLO. Two young folks the thing is curious Loved each other; yesterday Both quite mild, to-day quite furious, Next day, quite the deuce to pay! If her neck she there […]...
- The Fisherman Although I can see him still. The freckled man who goes To a grey place on a hill In grey 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 […]...
- New Farm Tractor The rear axles hold the kick of twenty Missouri jackasses. It is in the records of the patent office and the ads there is twenty horse power pull here. The farm boy says hello to you instead of twenty mules-he sings to you instead of ten span of mules. A bucket of oil and a […]...
- Aftermath Have you forgotten yet?… For the world’s events have rumbled on since those gagged days, Like traffic checked while at the crossing of city-ways: And the haunted gap in your mind has filled with thoughts that flow Like clouds in the lit heaven of life; and you’re a man reprieved to go, Taking your peaceful […]...
- Summer Dawn Pray but one prayer for me ‘twixt thy closed lips, Think but one thought of me up in the stars. The summer night waneth, the morning light slips, Faint and grey ‘twixt the leaves of the aspen, betwixt the cloud-bars That are patiently waiting there for the dawn: Patient and colourless, though Heaven’s gold Waits […]...
- Gacela of the Dark Death I want to sleep the dream of the apples, To withdraw from the tumult of cemetries. I want to sleep the dream of that child Who wanted to cut his heart on the high seas. I don’t want to hear again that the dead do not lose their blood, That the putrid mouth goes on […]...
- The Enigma The Sergeant of a Highland Reg- -Iment was drilling of his men; With temper notably on edge He blest them every now and then. A sweet old lady standing by, Was looking on with fascination, And then she dared this question shy, That pertubates the Celtic nation. “Oh gentle Sergeant do not scold; Please tell […]...
- Teatro Bambino. Dublin, N. H How still it is! Sunshine itself here Falls In quiet shafts of light through the high trees Which, arching, make a roof above the walls Changing from sun to shadow as each breeze Lingers a moment, charmed by the strange sight Of an Italian theatre, storied, seer Of vague romance, and time’s long history; Where […]...
- The Valley's Singing Day The sound of the closing outside door was all. You made no sound in the grass with your footfall, As far as you went from the door, which was not far; But had awakened under the morning star The first song-bird that awakened all the rest. He could have slept but a moment more at […]...
- Duddingstone WITH caws and chirrupings, the woods In this thin sun rejoice. The Psalm seems but the little kirk That sings with its own voice. The cloud-rifts share their amber light With the surface of the mere – I think the very stones are glad To feel each other near. Once more my whole heart leaps […]...
- The Liner She's a Lady The Liner she’s a lady, an’ she never looks nor ‘eeds The Man-o’-War’s ‘er ‘usband, an’ ‘e gives ‘er all she needs; But, oh, the little cargo-boats, that sail the wet seas roun’, They’re just the same as you an’ me a-plyin’ up an’ down! Plyin’ up an’ down, Jenny, ‘angin’ round the Yard, All […]...
- He Hears That His Beloved Has Become Engaged For C. G. B. When she came on, you couldn’t keep your seat; Fighting your way up through the orchestra, Tup-heavy bumpkin, you confused your feet, Fell in the drum – how we went ha ha ha! But once you gained her side and started waltzing We all began to cheer; the way she leant […]...
- Alone From childhood’s hour I have not been As others were; I have not seen As others saw; I could not bring My passions from a common spring. From the same source I have not taken My sorrow; I could not awaken My heart to joy at the same tone; And all I loved, I loved […]...
- Filthy Savior Look at this storm, the idiot, Pouring its heart out here, of all places, An industrial suburb on a Sunday, Soaking nothing but cinder-block And parking lots, wasting its breath on smokeless Smoke-stacks, not even a trash can To send rumbling through the streets. And that lightning bolt, forking itself To death, to hit nothing […]...
- Sonnet XXI: A Witless Galant A witless gallant a young wench that woo’d (Yet his dull spirit her not one jot could move), Entreated me, as e’er I wish’d his good, To write him but one sonnet to his love; When I, as fast as e’er my pen could trot, Pour’d out what first from quick invention came, Nor never […]...
- The Dawn I would be ignorant as the dawn That has looked down On that old queen measuring a town With the pin of a brooch, Or on the withered men that saw From their pedantic Babylon The careless planets in their courses, The stars fade out where the moon comes. And took their tablets and did […]...
- Before The Paling Of The Stars Before the winter morn, Before the earliest cock crow, Jesus Christ was born: Born in a stable, Cradled in a manger, In the world his hands had made Born a stranger. Priest and king lay fast asleep In Jerusalem; Young and old lay fast asleep In crowded Bethlehem; Saint and angel, ox and ass, Kept […]...
- We Are Going They came in to the little town A semi-naked band subdued and silent All that remained of their tribe. They came here to the place of their old bora ground Where now the many white men hurry about like ants. Notice of the estate agent reads: ‘Rubbish May Be Tipped Here’. Now it half covers […]...
- Sestina Otiosa Our great work, the Otia Merseiana, Edited by learned Mister Sampson, And supported by Professor Woodward, Is financed by numerous Bogus Meetings Hastily convened by Kuno Meyer To impose upon the Man of Business. All in vain! The accomplished Man of Business Disapproves of Otia Merseiana, Turns his back on Doctor Kuno Meyer; Cannot be […]...
- Prospect NSW (For Anita Cobby) The hushed dark hugs the streets. Somewhere a cat snaps the silence. Dogs begin to bark, like a pack moving in for the kill. Women shrink in their homes. Shadows slip through the night and stars dim their lights as cars flash past. When they disappear, silence, heavy as hate, descends. Hours stretch like elastic […]...
- Marigolds With a fork drive Nature out, She will ever yet return; Hedge the flowerbed all about, Pull or stab or cut or burn, She will ever yet return. Look: the constant marigold Springs again from hidden roots. Baffled gardener, you behold New beginnings and new shoots Spring again from hidden roots. Pull or stab or […]...
- Odysseus' Decision The great man turns his back on the island. Now he will not die in paradise Nor hear again The lutes of paradise among the olive trees, By the clear pools under the cypresses. Time Begins now, in which he hears again That pulse which is the narrative Sea, ar dawn when its pull is […]...
- The Ballad Of The Foxhunter ‘Lay me in a cushioned chair; Carry me, ye four, With cushions here and cushions there, To see the world once more. ‘To stable and to kennel go; Bring what is there to bring; Lead my Lollard to and fro, Or gently in a ring. ‘Put the chair upon the grass: Bring Rody and his […]...
- The House of Christmas There fared a mother driven forth Out of an inn to roam; In the place where she was homeless All men are at home. The crazy stable close at hand, With shaking timber and shifting sand, Grew a stronger thing to abide and stand Than the square stones of Rome. For men are homesick in […]...
- The Fourth Shepherd (For Thomas Walsh) I On nights like this the huddled sheep Are like white clouds upon the grass, And merry herdsmen guard their sleep And chat and watch the big stars pass. It is a pleasant thing to lie Upon the meadow on the hill With kindly fellowship near by Of sheep and men of […]...
- A Toast to the Men Here’s to the men! Since Adam’s time They’ve always been the same; Whenever anything goes wrong, The woman is to blame. From early morn to late at night, The men fault-finders are; They blame us if they oversleep, Or if they miss a car. They blame us if, beneath the bed, Their collar buttons roll; […]...
- The Only Son She dropped the bar, she shot the bolt, she fed the fire anew For she heard a whimper under the sill and a great grey paw came through. The fresh flame comforted the hut and shone on the roof-beam, And the Only Son lay down again and dreamed that he dreamed a dream. The last […]...
- The Pilgrim I fasted for some forty days on bread and buttermilk, For passing round the bottle with girls in rags or silk, In country shawl or Paris cloak, had put my wits astray, And what’s the good of women, for all that they can say Is fol de rol de rolly O. Round Lough Derg’s holy […]...
- The Little Black Boy My mother bore me in the southern wild, And I am black, but O! my soul is white. White as an angel is the English child: But I am black as if bereav’d of light. My mother taught me underneath a tree And sitting down before the heat of day. She took me on her […]...
- You Thought I Was That Type You thought I was that type: That you could forget me, And that I’d plead and weep And throw myself under the hooves of a bay mare, Or that I’d ask the sorcerers For some magic potion made from roots and send you a terrible gift: My precious perfumed handkerchief. Damn you! I will not […]...
- Dawning There are hours when every thing creaks When chairs stretch their arms, tables their legs And closets crack their backs, incautiously Fed up with the polite fantasy Of having to stay in one place And stick to their stations Humans too, at work, or in love Know such aches and growing pains When inner furnishings […]...
- I learned at least what Home could be I learned at least what Home could be How ignorant I had been Of pretty ways of Covenant How awkward at the Hymn Round our new Fireside but for this This pattern of the Way Whose Memory drowns me, like the Dip Of a Celestial Sea What Mornings in our Garden guessed What Bees for […]...
« Primrose