Monday, March 31, 2014


Yeats is someone who can draw you in or turn you away--and fast. He wrote in many styles, and depending on which you get, your whole opinion of him can change three sixty degrees. Here's a great poem by him that is both beautiful in its own right and reminiscent of Donne. And here's more by him.


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;
The shaking of its leafy head
Has given the waves their melody,
And made my lips and music wed,
Murmuring a wizard song for thee.
There, through bewildered branches, go
Winged Loves borne on in gentle strife,
Tossing and tossing to and fro
The flaming circle of our life.
When looking on their shaken hair,
144And dreaming how they dance and dart,
Thine eyes grow full of tender care:
Beloved, gaze in thine own heart. [...]

No comments:

Post a Comment