Polling For English Poetry April 2014

**Zindagi** · 21-04-2014, 02:36 AM

Is month ''William Butler Yeats'' poetry share karni thi.

ye rahi sab ki sharings..

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Rules:-

Aap Apni Sharing Ko Khud Vote Ni Kar Saktay...
Polling Ki Last Date 28th April 2014 Hai...
Winner 50% Polling Aur 50% Admins Decide Karay Ge

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thefire1

XV. Three Things

`O CRUEL Death, give three things back,'
Sang a bone upon the shore;
`A child found all a child can lack,
Whether of pleasure or of rest,
Upon the abundance of my breast':
A bone wave−whitened and dried in the wind.
`Three dear things that women know,
'Sang a bhone upon the shore;`
A man if I but held him so
When my body was alive Found all the pleasure that life gave':
A bone wave−whitened and dried in the wind.
`The third thing that I think of yet,
'Sang a bone upon the shore,
'Is that morning when I met

attiaahsan

A Dream Of Death

I DREAMED that one had died in a strange place
Near no accustomed hand,
And they had nailed the boards above her face,
The peasants of that land,
Wondering to lay her in that solitude,
And raised above her mound
A cross they had made out of two bits of wood,
And planted cypress round;
And left her to the indifferent stars above
Until I carved these words:
i{She was more beautiful than thy first love,}
i{But now lies under boards.}
William Butler Yeats

LoViNg IrFaN

Old Memory

O THOUGHT, fly to her when the end of day
Awakens an old memory, and say,
'Your strength, that is so lofty and fierce and kind,
It might call up a new age, calling to mind
The queens that were imagined long ago,
Is but half yours: he kneaded in the dough
Through the long years of youth, and who would have thought
It all, and more than it all, would come to naught,
And that dear words meant nothing?' But enough,
For when we have blamed the wind we can blame love;
Or, if there needs be more, be nothing said
That would be harsh for children that have strayed.

William Butler Yeats

YouthFul

When you are old
William Butler Yeats
_______________________

When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim Soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

~HaAni~

THE true faith discovered was
When painted panel, statuary.
Glass-mosaic, window-glass,
Amended what was told awry
By some peasant gospeller;
Swept the Sawdust from the floor
Of that working-carpenter.
Miracle had its playtime where
In damask clothed and on a seat
Chryselephantine, cedar-boarded,
His majestic Mother sat
Stitching at a purple hoarded
That He might be nobly breeched
In starry towers of Babylon
Noah's freshet never reached.
King Abundance got Him on
Innocence; and Wisdom He.
That cognomen sounded best

William Butler Yeats

*jamshed*

A Cradle Song

THE angels are stooping
Above your bed;
They weary of trooping
With the whimpering dead.
God's laughing in Heaven
To see you so good;
The Sailing Seven
Are gay with His mood.
I sigh that kiss you,
For I must own
That I shall miss you
When you have grown.

William Butler Yeats