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23 de mai. de 2024 · He Wishes For The Cloths Of Heaven. 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;
Há 4 dias · The Four Ages Of Man. He with body waged a fight, But body won; it walks upright. Then he struggled with the heart; Innocence and peace depart. Then he struggled with the mind; His proud heart he left behind. Now his wars on God begin; At stroke of midnight God shall win.
Há 6 dias · 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.
Há 2 dias · Quiz Answer Key and Fun Facts. 1. In which European city was William Butler Yeats born? Answer: Dublin. One of the foremost figures in Irish literature during the late 19th and early 20th century, William Butler Yeats was born in Dublin on 13 June 1865. He came from an Anglo-Irish family, and developed a fascination with Irish legends as a youth.
Há 5 dias · And the salmon behold, and the ousel too, My love, we will hear, I and you, we will hear, The calling afar of the doe and the deer. And the bird in the branches will cry for us clear, And the cuckoo unseen in his festival mood; And death, oh my fair one, will never come near. In the bosom afar of the fragrant wood. William Butler Yeats.
22 de mai. de 2024 · In Tara's Halls. A MAN I praise that once in Tara's Hals. Said to the woman on his knees, 'Lie still. My hundredth year is at an end. I think. That something is about to happen, I think. That the adventure of old age begins. To many women I have said, ''Lie still,''. And given everything a woman needs,
Há 2 dias · Her Dream. I dreamed as in my bed I lay, All night 's fathomless wisdom come, That I had shorn my locks away. And laid them on Love 's lettered tomb: But something bore them out of sight. In a great tumult of the air, And after nailed upon the night. Berenice's burning hair.
