The Wind Among the Reeds E-Book

W.b.yeats

• Herausgeber: Charles River Editors
• Kategorie: Poesie und Drama
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Seitenzahl: 58

Beschreibung

W.B. Yeats was an Irish poet who was one of the biggest contributors to the Irish Literary Revival of the late 19th and early 20th centuries.  In 1923, Yeats became the first Irishman to be awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature.  This edition of The Wind Among the Reeds includes a table of contents.

Leseprobe

THE WIND AMONG THE REEDS

..................

W. B. Yeats

KYPROS PRESS

Thank you for reading. In the event that you appreciate this book, please consider sharing the good word(s) by leaving a review, or connect with the author.

This book is a work of poetry; its contents are wholly imagined.

All rights reserved. Aside from brief quotations for media coverage and reviews, no part of this book may be reproduced or distributed in any form without the author’s permission. Thank you for supporting authors and a diverse, creative culture by purchasing this book and complying with copyright laws.

Copyright © 2015 by W. B. Yeats

Interior design by Pronoun

Distribution by Pronoun

TABLE OF CONTENTS

The Wind Among the Reeds

THE HOSTING OF THE SIDHE

THE EVERLASTING VOICES

THE MOODS

AEDH TELLS OF THE ROSE IN HIS HEART

THE HOST OF THE AIR

BREASAL THE FISHERMAN

A CRADLE SONG

INTO THE TWILIGHT

THE SONG OF WANDERING AENGUS

THE SONG OF THE OLD MOTHER

THE FIDDLER OF DOONEY

THE HEART OF THE WOMAN

AEDH LAMENTS THE LOSS OF LOVE

MONGAN LAMENTS THE CHANGE THAT HAS COME UPON HIM AND HIS BELOVED

MICHAEL ROBARTES BIDS HIS BELOVED BE AT PEACE

HANRAHAN REPROVES THE CURLEW

MICHAEL ROBARTES REMEMBERS FORGOTTEN BEAUTY

A POET TO HIS BELOVED

AEDH GIVES HIS BELOVED CERTAIN RHYMES

TO MY HEART, BIDDING IT HAVE NO FEAR

THE CAP AND BELLS

THE VALLEY OF THE BLACK PIG

MICHAEL ROBARTES ASKS FORGIVENESS BECAUSE OF HIS MANY MOODS

AEDH TELLS OF A VALLEY FULL OF LOVERS

AEDH TELLS OF THE PERFECT BEAUTY

AEDH HEARS THE CRY OF THE SEDGE

AEDH THINKS OF THOSE WHO HAVE SPOKEN EVIL OF HIS BELOVED

THE BLESSED

THE SECRET ROSE

HANRAHAN LAMENTS BECAUSE OF HIS WANDERINGS

THE TRAVAIL OF PASSION

THE POET PLEADS WITH HIS FRIEND FOR OLD FRIENDS

HANRAHAN SPEAKS TO THE LOVERS OF HIS SONGS IN COMING DAYS

AEDH PLEADS WITH THE ELEMENTAL POWERS

AEDH WISHES HIS BELOVED WERE DEAD

AEDH WISHES FOR THE CLOTHS OF HEAVEN

MONGAN THINKS OF HIS PAST GREATNESS

NOTES

THE HOSTING OF THE SIDHE.

‘AEDH,’ ‘HANRAHAN’ AND ‘MICHAEL ROBARTES’ IN THESE POEMS.

AEDH PLEADS WITH THE ELEMENTAL POWERS. MONGAN THINKS OF HIS PAST GREATNESS. AEDH HEARS THE CRY OF THE SEDGE.

THE HOST OF THE AIR.

A CRADLE SONG. MICHAEL ROBARTES ASKS FORGIVENESS BECAUSE OF HIS MANY MOODS.

MICHAEL ROBARTES BIDS HIS BELOVED BE AT PEACE.

MONGAN LAMENTS THE CHANGE THAT HAS COME UPON HIM AND HIS BELOVED. HANRAHAN LAMENTS BECAUSE OF HIS WANDERINGS.

THE CAP AND BELLS.

THE VALLEY OF THE BLACK PIG.

THE SECRET ROSE.

THE WIND AMONG THE REEDS

..................

THE HOSTING OF THE SIDHE

..................

The host is riding from Knocknarea

And over the grave of Clooth-na-bare;

Caolte tossing his burning hair

And Niamh calling Away, come away:

Empty your heart of its mortal dream.

The winds awaken, the leaves whirl round,

Our cheeks are pale, our hair is unbound,

Our breasts are heaving, our eyes are a-gleam,

Our arms are waving, our lips are apart;

And if any gaze on our rushing band,

We come between him and the deed of his hand,

We come between him and the hope of his heart.

The host is rushing ‘twixt night and day,

And where is there hope or deed as fair?

Caolte tossing his burning hair,

And Niamh calling Away, come away.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––—

THE EVERLASTING VOICES

..................

O sweet everlasting Voices be still;

Go to the guards of the heavenly fold

And bid them wander obeying your will

Flame under flame, till Time be no more;

Have you not heard that our hearts are old,

That you call in birds, in wind on the hill,

In shaken boughs, in tide on the shore?

O sweet everlasting Voices be still.

________________________________________

THE MOODS

..................

Time drops in decay,

Like a candle burnt out,

And the mountains and woods

Have their day, have their day;

What one in the rout

Of the fire-born moods,

Has fallen away?

________________________________________

AEDH TELLS OF THE ROSE IN HIS HEART

..................

All things uncomely and broken, all things worn out and old,

The cry of a child by the roadway, the creak of a lumbering cart,

The heavy steps of the ploughman, splashing the wintry mould,

Are wronging your image that blossoms a rose in the deeps of my heart.

The wrong of unshapely things is a wrong too great to be told;

I hunger to build them anew and sit on a green knoll apart,

With the earth and the sky and the water, remade, like a casket of gold

For my dreams of your image that blossoms a rose in the deeps of my heart.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––—

THE HOST OF THE AIR

..................

O’Driscoll drove with a song,

The wild duck and the drake,

From the tall and the tufted reeds

Of the drear Hart Lake.

And he saw how the reeds grew dark

At the coming of night tide,

And dreamed of the long dim hair

Of Bridget his bride.

He heard while he sang and dreamed

A piper piping away,

And never was piping so sad,

And never was piping so gay.

And he saw young men and young girls

Who danced on a level place

And Bridget his bride among them,

With a sad and a gay face.

The dancers crowded about him,

And many a sweet thing said,

And a young man brought him red wine

And a young girl white bread.

But Bridget drew him by the sleeve,

Away from the merry bands,

To old men playing at cards

With a twinkling of ancient hands.

The bread and the wine had a doom,

For these were the host of the air;

He sat and played in a dream

Of her long dim hair.

He played with the merry old men

And thought not of evil chance,

Until one bore Bridget his bride

Away from the merry dance.

He bore her away in his arms,

The handsomest young man there,

And his neck and his breast and his arms

Were drowned in her long dim hair.

O’Driscoll scattered the cards

And out of his dream awoke:

Old men and young men and young girls

Were gone like a drifting smoke;

But he heard high up in the air

A piper piping away,

And never was piping so sad,

And never was piping so gay.

________________________________________

BREASAL THE FISHERMAN

..................

Although you hide in the ebb and flow

Of the pale tide when the moon has set,

The people of coming days will know

About the casting out of my net,

And how you have leaped times out of mind

Over the little silver cords,

And think that you were hard and unkind,