The Green Helmet and Other Poems - W.B. Yeats - E-Book

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The Green Helmet and Other Poems

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W. B. Yeats

The Green Helmet and Other Poems

New Edition

LONDON ∙ NEW YORK ∙ TORONTO ∙ SAO PAULO ∙ MOSCOW

PARIS ∙ MADRID ∙ BERLIN ∙ ROME ∙ MEXICO CITY ∙ MUMBAI ∙ SEOUL ∙ DOHA

TOKYO ∙ SYDNEY ∙ CAPE TOWN ∙ AUCKLAND ∙ BEIJING

New Edition

Published by Sovereign Classic

This Edition

First published in 2019

Copyright © 2019 Sovereign Classic

All Rights Reserved.

ISBN: 9781787249998

Contents

HIS DREAM

A WOMAN HOMER SUNG

THAT THE NIGHT COME

THE CONSOLATION

FRIENDS

NO SECOND TROY

RECONCILIATION

KING AND NO KING

THE COLD HEAVEN

PEACE

AGAINST UNWORTHY PRAISE

THE FASCINATION OF WHAT’S DIFFICULT

A DRINKING SONG

THE COMING OF WISDOM WITH TIME

ON HEARING THAT THE STUDENTS OF OUR NEW UNIVERSITY HAVE JOINED THE ANCIENT ORDER OF HIBERNIANS AND THE AGITATION AGAINST IMMORAL LITERATURE

TO A POET, WHO WOULD HAVE ME PRAISE CERTAIN BAD POETS, IMITATORS OF HIS AND MINE

THE ATTACK ON THE “PLAY BOY”

A LYRIC FROM AN UNPUBLISHED PLAY

UPON A HOUSE SHAKEN BY THE LAND AGITATION

AT THE ABBEY THEATRE

THESE ARE THE CLOUDS

AT GALWAY RACES

A FRIEND’S ILLNESS

ALL THINGS CAN TEMPT ME

THE YOUNG MAN’S SONG

THE GREEN HELMET

HIS DREAM

I swayed upon the gaudy stern

The butt end of a steering oar,

And everywhere that I could turn

Men ran upon the 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 fishes bubbling to the brim

Cried out upon that thing beneath,

It had such dignity of limb,

By the sweet name of Death.

Though I’d my finger on my lip,

What could I but take up the song?

And fish and crowd and gaudy ship

Cried out the whole night long,

Crying amid the glittering sea,

Naming it with ecstatic breath,

Because it had such dignity

By the sweet name of Death.

A WOMAN HOMER SUNG

If any man drew near

When I was young,

I thought, “He holds her dear,”

And shook with hate and fear.

But oh, ’twas bitter wrong

If he could pass her by

With an indifferent eye.

Whereon I wrote and wrought,

And now, being gray,

I dream that I have brought

To such a pitch my thought

That coming time can say,

“He shadowed in a glass

What thing her body was.”

For she had fiery blood

When I was young,

And trod so sweetly proud

As ’twere upon a cloud,

A woman Homer sung,

That life and letters seem

But an heroic dream.

THAT THE NIGHT COME

She lived in storm and strife.

Her soul had such desire

For what proud death may bring

That it could not endure

The common good of life,

But lived as ’twere a king

That packed his marriage day

With banneret and pennon,

Trumpet and kettledrum,

And the outrageous cannon,

To bundle Time away

That the night come.

THE CONSOLATION

I had this thought awhile ago,

“My darling cannot understand

What I have done, or what would do

In this blind bitter land.”

And I grew weary of the sun

Until my thoughts cleared up again,

Remembering that the best I have done