William Butler Yeats

William Butler Yeats

1865–1939 · lived 73 years IE IE

William Butler Yeats was a prominent Irish poet, playwright, and mystic, widely regarded as one of the greatest poets of the 20th century. His early work was deeply influenced by Irish mythology and folklore, and he was a key figure in the Irish Literary Revival. Over his career, his style evolved, becoming more personal, symbolic, and philosophical, grappling with themes of love, aging, politics, and the spiritual life. Yeats's poetry is characterized by its rich imagery, musicality, and intellectual depth. He explored the complexities of the human condition, the nature of art, and the turbulent history of Ireland. His later works, in particular, are known for their aphoristic power and profound meditations on life and mortality. He received the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1923, solidifying his international literary stature.

n. 1865-06-13, Sandymount · m. 1939-01-28, Menton

78,459 Views

Youth And Age

Youth And Age

MUCH did I rage when young,
Being by the world oppressed,
But now with flattering tongue
It speeds the parting guest.
Read full poem
Bio

Identification and basic context

William Butler Yeats was an Irish poet, dramatist, and prose writer, and one of the foremost figures of 20th-century literature. He was born in Sandymount, County Dublin, Ireland. He wrote in English.

Childhood and education

Yeats's childhood was divided between County Sligo, a rural area of great natural beauty that deeply influenced his imagination, and Dublin. His father was a barrister and painter, and his mother came from a prosperous merchant family in Sligo. He attended the Godolphin School in Hammersmith, London, and then the Metropolitan School of Art in Dublin. His early intellectual and artistic development was influenced by the Aesthetic and Decadent movements, and by his deep interest in Irish mythology, folklore, and the occult.

Literary trajectory

Yeats's literary career began in his early twenties with the publication of his first poems. He became a central figure in the Irish Literary Revival, aiming to create a distinctly Irish national literature. His early poetry, such as 'The Wanderings of Usheen' (1889), was romantic and myth-laden. Throughout his life, his style evolved, becoming more personal, philosophical, and symbolically complex. He was also a prolific playwright and a co-founder of the Abbey Theatre in Dublin. His later works, including 'The Tower' (1928) and 'The Winding Stair and Other Poems' (1933), are considered masterpieces of modernist poetry.

Works, style, and literary characteristics

Yeats's major works include 'The Wanderings of Usheen' (1889), 'The Countess Cathleen' (1892), 'The Wild Swans at Coole' (1919), 'The Tower' (1928), and 'Last Poems and Two Plays' (1936). His poetry is renowned for its rich symbolism, often drawn from Irish myth, ancient religions, and his own esoteric system (A Vision). Key themes include love (often unrequited or complex), death, time, aging, Irish nationalism, art, the conflict between the spiritual and the material, and the cyclical nature of history. His style transitioned from a pre-Raphaelite romanticism to a more compressed, intellectually rigorous, and sometimes violent modernist idiom. He experimented with various forms but also developed a distinctive, powerful free verse and rhyming couplets. His poetic voice ranges from the elegiac and lyrical to the prophetic and satirical.

Cultural and historical context

Yeats lived through a period of intense political and social upheaval in Ireland, including the struggle for Home Rule, the Easter Rising of 1916, and the Irish Civil War. He was deeply involved with Irish cultural nationalism, though his relationship with political factions was often complex and critical. He was associated with the Symbolist movement in poetry and was influenced by philosophers like Nietzsche and scholars of mysticism. His work reflects the tensions between the pagan past and the Christian present, the individual and the state, and the forces of tradition and modernity.

Personal life

Yeats's personal life was marked by his passionate, often unrequited, love for Maud Gonne, an Irish nationalist and activist, who inspired many of his most famous poems. He was also involved in occult societies and developed a complex personal mythology. He married Georgie Hyde-Lees late in life, and they had two children. His later years were spent between Ireland and England, and he served as a Senator of the Irish Free State from 1922 to 1928.

Recognition and reception

Yeats achieved significant international recognition during his lifetime and was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1923. He is considered one of the most important poets of the English language. His work has been widely translated and studied, and he is a central figure in the canon of modern literature.

Influences and legacy

Yeats was influenced by William Blake, Shelley, the Pre-Raphaelite poets, and various esoteric traditions. He, in turn, profoundly influenced subsequent generations of poets, both in Ireland and internationally, particularly in his development of modernist techniques and his engagement with complex themes. His emphasis on symbolism and his unique blend of personal and public concerns set a new standard for poetic expression.

Interpretation and critical analysis

Critical analyses of Yeats's work often focus on his evolving symbolism, his relationship with Irish history and myth, and the philosophical and esoteric dimensions of his poetry. Debates have arisen regarding his political stances and his complex attitudes towards Irish identity and modernity.

Curiosities and lesser-known aspects

Yeats was deeply involved in spiritualism and theosophy, developing his own intricate system of philosophy and history known as A Vision, which he published in prose form. He was also a proponent of eugenics, a controversial aspect of his thought.

Death and memory

Yeats died in Roquebrune-Cap-Martin, France, in 1939. His body was initially buried there but was later exhumed and reburied in Drumcliffe, County Sligo, Ireland, as per his wishes, beneath the shadow of Ben Bulben mountain.

Poems

201

The Fascination Of What's Difficult

The Fascination Of What's Difficult

THE fascination of what's difficult
Has dried the sap out of my veins, and rent
Spontaneous joy and natural content
Out of my heart. There's something ails our colt
That must, as if it had not holy blood
Nor on Olympus leaped from cloud to cloud,
Shiver under the lash, strain, sweat and jolt
As though it dragged road-metal. My curse on plays
That have to be set up in fifty ways,
On the day's war with every knave and dolt,
Theatre business, management of men.
I swear before the dawn comes round again
I'll find the stable and pull out the bolt.
398

The Double Vision Of Michael Robartes

The Double Vision Of Michael Robartes

I
ON the grey rock of Cashel the mind's eye
Has called up the cold spirits that are born
When the old moon is vanished from the sky
And the new still hides her horn.
Under blank eyes and fingers never still
The particular is pounded till it is man.
When had I my own will?
O not since life began.
Constrained, arraigned, baffled, bent and unbent
By these wire-jointed jaws and limbs of wood,
Themselves obedient,
Knowing not evil and good;
Obedient to some hidden magical breath.
They do not even feel, so abstract are they.
So dead beyond our death,
Triumph that we obey.
On the grey rock of Cashel I suddenly saw
A Sphinx with woman breast and lion paw.
A Buddha, hand at rest,
Hand lifted up that blest;
And right between these two a girl at play
That, it may be, had danced her life away,
For now being dead it seemed
That she of dancing dreamed.
Although I saw it all in the mind's eye
There can be nothing solider till I die;
I saw by the moon's light
Now at its fifteenth night.
One lashed her tail; her eyes lit by the moon
Gazed upon all things known, all things unknown,
In triumph of intellect
With motionless head erect.
That other's moonlit eyeballs never moved,
Being fixed on all things loved, all things unloved.
Yet little peace he had,
For those that love are sad.
Little did they care who danced between,
And little she by whom her dance was seen
So she had outdanced thought.
Body perfection brought,
For what but eye and ear silence the mind
With the minute particulars of mankind?
Mind moved yet seemed to stop
As 'twere a spinning-top.
In contemplation had those three so wrought
Upon a moment, and so stretched it out
That they, time overthrown,
Were dead yet flesh and bone.
I knew that I had seen, had seen at last
That girl my unremembering nights hold fast
Or else my dreams that fly



If I should rub an eye,
And yet in flying fling into my meat
A crazy juice that makes the pulses beat
As though I had been undone
By Homer's Paragon
Who never gave the burning town a thought;
To such a pitch of folly I am brought,
Being caught between the pull
Of the dark moon and the full,
The commonness of thought and images
That have the frenzy of our western seas.
Thereon I made my moan,
And after kissed a stone,
And after that arranged it in a song
Seeing that I, ignorant for So long,
Had been rewarded thus
In Cormac's ruined house.


MICHAEL ROBARTES AND THE DANCER


He. Opinion is not worth a rush;
In this altar-piece the knight,
Who grips his long spear so to push
That dragon through the fading light,
Loved the lady; and it's plain
The half-dead dragon was her thought,
That every morning rose again
And dug its claws and shrieked and fought.
Could the impossible come to pass
She would have time to turn her eyes,
Her lover thought, upon the glass
And on the instant would grow wise.
She. You mean they argued.
He. Put it so;
But bear in mind your lover's wage
Is what your looking-glass can show,
And that he will turn green with rage
At all that is not pictured there.
She. May I not put myself to college?
He. Go pluck Athene by the hair;
For what mere book can grant a knowledge
With an impassioned gravity
Appropriate to that beating breast,
That vigorous thigh, that dreaming eye?
And may the Devil take the rest.
She. And must no beautiful woman be
Learned like a man?
He. Paul Veronese
And all his sacred company
Imagined bodies all their days
By the lagoon you love so much,
For proud, soft, ceremonious proof



That all must come to sight and touch;
While Michael Angelo's Sistine roof,
His 'Morning' and his 'Night' disclose
How sinew that has been pulled tight,
Or it may be loosened in repose,
Can rule by supernatural right
Yet be but sinew.
She. I have heard said
There is great danger in the body.
He. Did God in portioning wine and bread
Give man His thought or His mere body?
She. My wretched dragon is perplexed.
Hec. I have principles to prove me right.
It follows from this Latin text
That blest souls are not composite,
And that all beautiful women may
Live in uncomposite blessedness,
And lead us to the like -- if they
Will banish every thought, unless
The lineaments that please their view
When the long looking-glass is full,
Even from the foot-sole think it too.
She. They say such different things at school.
410

The Delphic Oracle Upon Plotinus

The Delphic Oracle Upon Plotinus

Behold that great Plotinus swim,
Buffeted by such seas;
Bland Rhadamanthus beckons him,
But the Golden Race looks dim,
Salt blood blocks his eyes.
Scattered on the level grass
Or winding through the grove
plato there and Minos pass,
There stately Pythagoras
And all the choir of Love.
278

The Dedication To A Book Of Stories

The Dedication To A Book Of Stories

SELECTED FROM THE IRISH NOVELISTS

THERE was a green branch hung with many a bell
When her own people ruled this tragic Eire;
And from its murmuring greenness, calm of Faery,
A Druid kindness, on all hearers fell.
It charmed away the merchant from his guile,
And turned the farmer's memory from his cattle,
And hushed in sleep the roaring ranks of battle:
And all grew friendly for a little while.
Ah, Exiles wandering over lands and seas,
And planning, plotting always that some morrow
May set a stone upon ancestral Sorrow!
I also bear a bell-branch full of ease.
I tore it from green boughs winds tore and tossed
Until the sap of summer had grown weary!
I tore it from the barren boughs of Eire,
That country where a man can be so crossed;
Can be so battered, badgered and destroyed
That he's a loveless man: gay bells bring laughter
That shakes a mouldering cobweb from the rafter;
And yet the saddest chimes are best enjoyed.
Gay bells or sad, they bring you memories
Of half-forgotten innocent old places:
We and our bitterness have left no traces
On Munster grass and Connemara skies.
401

The Dancer At Cruachan And Cro-Patrick

The Dancer At Cruachan And Cro-Patrick

I, proclaiming that there is
Among birds or beasts or men
One that is perfect or at peace.
Danced on Cruachan's windy plain,
Upon Cro-patrick sang aloud;
All that could run or leap or swim
Whether in wood, water or cloud,
Acclaiming, proclaiming, declaiming Him.
270

The Coming Of Wisdom With Time

The Coming Of Wisdom With Time

THOUGH leaves are many, the root is one;
Through all the lying days of my youth
I swayed my leaves and flowers in the sun;
Now I may wither into the truth.
346

The Crazed Moon

The Crazed Moon

CRAZED through much child-bearing
The moon is staggering in the sky;
Moon-struck by the despairing
Glances of her wandering eye
We grope, and grope in vain,
For children born of her pain.
Children dazed or dead!
When she in all her virginal pride
First trod on the mountain's head
What stir ran through the countryside
Where every foot obeyed her glance!
What manhood led the dance!
Fly-catchers of the moon,
Our hands are blenched, our fingers seem
But slender needles of bone;
Blenched by that malicious dream
They are spread wide that each
May rend what comes in reach.
361

The Cold Heaven

The Cold Heaven

SUDDENLY I saw the cold and rook-delighting heaven
That seemed as though ice burned and was but the more ice,
And thereupon imagination and heart were driven
So wild that every casual thought of that and this
Vanished, and left but memories, that should be out of season
With the hot blood of youth, of love crossed long ago;
And I took all thc blame out of all sense and reason,
Until I cried and trembled and rocked to and fro,
Riddled with light. Ah! when the ghost begins to quicken,
Confusion of the death-bed over, is it sent
Out naked on the roads, as the books say, and stricken
By the injustice of the skies for punishment?
313

The Cloak, The Boat And The Shoes

The Cloak, The Boat And The Shoes

'What do you make so fair and bright?'

'I make the cloak of Sorrow:
O lovely to see in all men's sight
Shall be the cloak of Sorrow,
In all men's sight.'


'What do you build with sails for flight?'


'I build a boat for Sorrow:
O swift on the seas all day and night
Saileth the rover Sorrow,
All day and night.'


What do you weave with wool so white?'


'I weave the shoes of Sorrow:
Soundless shall be the footfall light
In all men's ears of Sorrow,
Sudden and light.'
382

The Chambermaid's First Song

The Chambermaid's First Song

HOW came this ranger
Now sunk in rest,
Stranger with strangcr.
On my cold breast?
What's left to Sigh for?
Strange night has come;
God's love has hidden him
Out of all harm,
Pleasure has made him
Weak as a worm.
288

Quotes

40

Videos

50

Comments (0)

Share
Log in to post a comment.

No comments yet. Be the first to comment.