2,49 €
Niedrigster Preis in 30 Tagen: 2,49 €
In "The Green Helmet and Other Poems," W. B. Yeats employs a masterful blend of lyricism and symbolism, weaving together themes of nature, desire, and the intricacies of the human experience. This collection, published in 1910, reveals Yeats's engagement with the evolving literary styles of his time, particularly the modernist movement. His use of vivid imagery and rich metaphor reflects both personal introspection and a broader commentary on the socio-political landscape of early 20th-century Ireland, allowing readers to traverse the realms of myth and reality seamlessly. W. B. Yeats, a Nobel Prize-winning poet, played a pivotal role in shaping Irish literature, influenced by his deep engagement with mysticism, folklore, and nationalism. His formative years were marked by the struggle for Irish identity and independence, motivating him to explore themes that resonate with both the national consciousness and personal realms. Yeats's experiences as a founding member of the Abbey Theatre further enriched his poetic exploration, providing a backdrop for the vibrant Ireland he often depicts in his work. Readers seeking to delve into the intricate layers of human emotion and the complexities of existence will find "The Green Helmet and Other Poems" an essential addition to their literary journey. Yeats's unique voice, which masterfully blends introspection with cultural commentary, invites reflection and admiration, making this collection a timeless exploration of the human spirit.
Das E-Book können Sie in Legimi-Apps oder einer beliebigen App lesen, die das folgende Format unterstützen:
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.
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.
She lived in storm and strife.
Her soul had such desire
For what proud death may bring