W.B. Yeats wrote three poems that explore themes of love, death, and memory. The first poem describes spreading dreams under a lover's feet since the speaker is poor and cannot offer material gifts. The second poem is about an Irish airman who foresees his death in battle, fighting not out of hatred or for those he protects, but due to a personal impulse. The third poem advises an aging lover to one day read the poem again and remember their love and changing face, and how one man loved the pilgrim soul within.
W.B. Yeats wrote three poems that explore themes of love, death, and memory. The first poem describes spreading dreams under a lover's feet since the speaker is poor and cannot offer material gifts. The second poem is about an Irish airman who foresees his death in battle, fighting not out of hatred or for those he protects, but due to a personal impulse. The third poem advises an aging lover to one day read the poem again and remember their love and changing face, and how one man loved the pilgrim soul within.
W.B. Yeats wrote three poems that explore themes of love, death, and memory. The first poem describes spreading dreams under a lover's feet since the speaker is poor and cannot offer material gifts. The second poem is about an Irish airman who foresees his death in battle, fighting not out of hatred or for those he protects, but due to a personal impulse. The third poem advises an aging lover to one day read the poem again and remember their love and changing face, and how one man loved the pilgrim soul within.
Had I the heavens embroidered cloths, Enwrought with golden and silver light, The blue and the dim and the dark cloths Of night and light and the half light, I would spread the cloths under your feet: But I, being poor, have only my dreams; I have spread my dreams under your feet; Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
An Irish Airman Foresees His Death
W. B. Yeats, 1865 - 1939 I know that I shall meet my fate Somewhere among the clouds above; Those that I fight I do not hate Those that I guard I do not love; My country is Kiltartan Cross, My countrymen Kiltartans poor, No likely end could bring them loss Or leave them happier than before. Nor law, nor duty bade me fight, Nor public man, nor cheering crowds, A lonely impulse of delight Drove to this tumult in the clouds; I balanced all, brought all to mind, The years to come seemed waste of breath, A waste of breath the years behind In balance with this life, this death.
When You Are Old
W. B. Yeats, 1865 - 1939 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.