Heroes of Poetry - William B. Yeats - page 1
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Biography

William Butler Yeats was born on the 13th of June 1865, and became the focus of the Irish Literary Renaissance during the early 20th century. His early poetry drew heavily from Irish legend and the occult, but as he matured he became increasingly engaged with his own time and Irish nationalism. The Yeats family moved to London in 1867, where his father gave up law in order to paint. Susan, William's mother, moves to Silgo in 1872 taking her children with her. Yeats was to form a profound attachment to this area. 2 years later the family were re-united in London where they stay until moving to Dublin in 1881. His first poems including The Island of Statues were published in 1885; during this year he also helped found the Dublin Hermetic Society. Back in London, 1889, at the age of 24 he meets the great unrequited love of his life, Maud Gonne. One year later, unknown to William, Maud gives birth to a son, George, (the child's father is Lucien Millevoye, the editor of a French newspaper) but the child dies before his first birthday. 1892 saw the first major publication of Yeats works, now know as The Rose, and he was also raising up the ranks in the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn. In 1902 Yeats became president of the Irish National Theatre, his ambition was to raise national consciousness through the arts. After 13 years of marriage proposals from Yeats, in 1903, Maud Gonne plunged the poet into the depths of despair when she married Major John MacBride. Encouraged by his great friend, the poet, Erza Pound, Yeats begins to toughen his poetic style, this together with the inspiration from his wife, Georgie Hyde-Lees (whom he married in 1917) lead his to create The Tower collection of poems full of "power and self-possession", finally published in 1928. In 1922 Yeats becomes a senator in the Irish Free State, where he causes outrage with his demand that divorce should be made legal, he holds the position until 1928. The following year, at the age of 58 he is awarded the Nobel Prize. Despite failing health (high blood pressure, arthritis and serious lung congestion, Yeats kept up a busy schedule during the last 11 years of his life, with visits to Italy, France, Spain as well as undertaking reading tours in America. He continued to write too, releasing the much-acclaimed collection of poetry A Vision in 1938. He was also writing plays and radio productions for the BBC. He died at the age of 74 on the 28th of January 1939. In 1948 his remains were moved back to his beloved Silgo.

Recommended Reading
The Complete Poems
Publisher : Everyman

Yeats' Ghosts
Publisher: Harper Collins

The Life of W.B.Yeats
Publisher : Blackwell Publishers

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Back To Cover Page Byzantium

The unpurged images of day recede;
The Emperor's drunken soldiery are abed;
Night resonance recedes, night-walkers' song
After great cathedral gong;
A starlit or a moonlit dome disdains
All that man is,
All mere complexities,
The fury and the mire of human veins.
Before me floats an image, man or shade,
Shade more than man, more image than a shade;
For Hades' bobbin bound in mummy-cloth
May unwind the winding path;
A mouth that has no moisture and no breath
Breathless mouths may summon;
I hail the superhuman;
I call it death-in-life and life-in-death.

Miracle, bird or golden handiwork,
More miracle than bird or handiwork,
Planted on the starlit golden bough,
Can like the cocks of Hades crow,
Or, by the moon embittered, scorn aloud
In glory of changeless metal
Common bird or petal
And all complexities of mire or blood.

At midnight on the Emperor's pavement flit
Flames that no faggot feeds, nor steel has lit,
Nor storm disturbs, flames begotten of flame,
Where blood-begotten spirits come
And all complexities of fury leave,
Dying into a dance,
An agony of trance,
An agony of flame that cannot singe a sleeve.

Astraddle on the dolphin's mire and blood,
Spirit after spirit! The smithies break the flood,
The golden smithies of the Emperor!
Marbles of the dancing floor
Break bitter furies of complexity,
Those images that yet
Fresh images beget,
That dolphin-torn, that gong-tormented sea.


A Coat

I made my song a coat
Covered with embroideries
Out of old mythologies
From heel to throat;
But the fools caught it,
Wore it in the world's eyes
As though they'd wrought it.
Song, let them take it,
For there's more enterprise
In walking naked.


The Pity of Love

A pity beyond all telling
Is hid in the heart of love:
The folk who are buying and selling,
The clouds on their journey above,
The cold wet winds ever blowing,
And the shadowy hazel grove
Where mouse-grey waters are flowing,
Threaten the heart that I love.


Stream and Sun at Glendalough

Through intricate motions ran
Stream and gliding sun
And all my heart seemed gay:
Some stupid thing that I had done
Made my attention stray.
Repentance keeps my heart impure;
But what am I that dare
Fancy that I can
Better conduct myself or have more
Sense than a common man?
What motion of the sun or stream
Or eyelid shot the gleam
That pierced my body through?
What made me live like these that seem
Self-born, born anew?


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