In the Seven Woods. William Butler Yeats
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William Butler Yeats
In the Seven Woods
Published by Good Press, 2020
EAN 4064066066819
Table of Contents
The Old Men admiring themselves in the Water
The Players ask for a Blessing on the Psalteries and themselves
IN THE SEVEN WOODS: BEING POEMS
CHIEFLY OF THE IRISH HEROIC AGE
BY WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS
THE DUN EMER PRESS
DUNDRUM
MCMIII
1 TABLE OF CONTENTS.
2 In the Seven Woods,Page 1
3 The Old Age of Queen Maeve,1
5 The Arrow,16
6 The Folly of being Comforted,16
7 The Withering of the Boughs,17
8 Adam's Curse,18
10 The Old Men admiring themselves in the Water,20
11 Under the Moon,21
12 The Players ask for a Blessing on the Psalteries and themselves,22
13 The Rider from the North,23
14 On Baile's Strand, a Play,26
In the Seven Woods
Layout 2
IN THE SEVEN WOODS
I have heard the pigeons of the Seven Woods
Make their faint thunder, and the garden bees
Hum in the lime tree flowers; and put away
The unavailing outcries and the old bitterness
That empty the heart. I have forgot awhile
Tara uprooted, and new commonness
Upon the throne and crying about the streets
And hanging its paper flowers from post to post,
Because it is alone of all things happy.
I am contented for I know that Quiet
Wanders laughing and eating her wild heart
Among pigeons and bees, while that Great Archer,
Who but awaits His hour to shoot, still hangs
A cloudy quiver over Parc-na-Lee.
August, 1902.
The Old Age of Queen Maeve
Layout 2
THE OLD AGE OF QUEEN MAEVE
Maeve the great queen was pacing to and fro,
Between the walls covered with beaten bronze,
In her high house at Cruachan; the long hearth,
Flickering with ash and hazel, but half showed
Where the tired horse-boys lay upon the rushes,
Or on the benches underneath the walls,
In comfortable sleep; all living slept
But that great queen, who more than half the night
Had paced from door to fire and fire to door.
Though now in her old age, in her young age
She had been beautiful in that old way
That's all but gone; for the proud heart is gone
And the fool heart of the counting-house fears all
But soft beauty and indolent desire.
She could have called over the rim of the world
Whatever woman's lover had hit her fancy,
And yet had been great bodied and great limbed,