William Butler Yeats and the Irish Literary RevivalMcClure, Phillips & Company, 1905 - 196 pages |
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Common terms and phrases
Alchemical artist audience Baile's Strand ballads beauty Blake Cathleen ni Hoolihan Celtic spirit Celtic Twilight charm Countess Cathleen County Sligo criticism darkness Dhoya doctrines drama dramatic activity dream Dublin English erature essays Evil eyes Faeries fairy faith Father feeling Forgael Gaelic hand heart Heart's Desire heroic age humour ideas imagination immortal incident inspired interest Ireland Irish language IRISH LITERARY REVIVAL Irish Literary Theatre Irish mythology Irish peasant Irish poetry Irish romance kind Lady Gregory Land of Heart's Le Sar light lips literary awakening Literary Theatre lives lover ment mind mood morality movement mystery mystic nature Oisin pagan passion Peladan philosophy play poems poet poetic Poor Old Woman prose Queen Maeve quietism Reeds Secret Rose sentiment Seven Woods Shadowy Waters song soul standpoint strange stream subtle supernatural symbolism symbolist tells things thought tion to-day verse wandering Wind Yeats has written Yeats's
Popular passages
Page 100 - I WILL arise and go now, and go to Innisfree, And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made; Nine bean rows will I have there, a hive for the honey bee, And live alone in the bee-loud glade. And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow, Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings ; There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow, And evening full of the linnet's wings.
Page 121 - The wind blows out of the gates of the day, The wind blows over the lonely of heart, And the lonely of heart is withered away. While the faeries dance in a place apart, Shaking their milk-white feet in a ring, Tossing their milk-white arms in the air; For they hear the wind laugh and murmur and sing Of a land where even the old are fair, -\ And even the wise are merry of tongue ; But I heard a reed of Coolaney say, 'When the wind has laughed and murmured and sung The lonely of heart is withered away!
Page 97 - The Two Trees Beloved, gaze in thine own heart, The holy tree is growing there; From joy the holy branches start, And all the trembling flowers they bear. The changing colours of its fruit Have dowered the stars with merry light; The surety of its hidden root Has planted quiet in the night...
Page 93 - 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...
Page 86 - Though I am old with wandering Through hollow lands and hilly lands, I will find out where she has gone, And kiss her lips and take her hands; And walk among long dappled grass, And pluck till time and times are done The silver apples of the moon, The golden apples of the sun.
Page 126 - It is a hard service they take that help me. Many that are red-cheeked now will be pale-cheeked; many that have been free to walk the hills and the bogs and the rushes will be sent to walk hard streets in far countries; many a good plan will 1 A traditional personification of Ireland.
Page 94 - Though hope fall from you and love decay, Burning in fires of a slanderous tongue. Come, heart, where hill is heaped upon hill: For there the mystical brotherhood Of sun and moon and hollow and wood And river and stream work out their will...
Page 163 - Come not to me again : but say to Athens, Timon hath made his everlasting mansion Upon the beached verge of the salt flood ; Who once a day with his embossed froth The turbulent surge shall cover : thither come, And let my grave-stone be your oracle.
Page 22 - DUST I HEARD them in their sadness say, " The earth rebukes the thought of God ; We are but embers wrapped in clay A little nobler than the sod." But I have touched the lips of clay, Mother, thy rudest sod to me Is thrilled with fire of hidden day, And haunted by all mystery.
Page 152 - Hanrahan is the simplicity of an imagination too changeable to gather permanent possessions, or the adoration of the shepherds ; and Michael Robartes is the pride of the imagination brooding upon the greatness of its possessions...