Author:William Butler Yeats/Index of First Lines

Poems from collections not on this list:

The Wanderings of Oisin and Other Poems (1889)

The Countess Kathleen and Various Legends and Lyrics or The Rose (1893)

The Wind Among the Reeds (1899)

Responsibilities (1914)

Michael Robartes and the Dancer (1921)

The Tower (1928)

The Winding Stair and Other Poems (1933)

Word for Music, Perhaps And Other Poems (1933)

A Full Moon in March (1935)

New Poems (1938)

Last Poems (1939)

A speckled cat and a tame hare Ah, that Time could touch a form All things can tempt me from this craft of verse All things uncomely and broken, all things worn out and old Although I can see him still Although I'd lie lapped up in linen Although you hide in the ebb and flow An old man cocked his ear upon a bridge

Bald heads forgetful of their sins Behold the flashing waters Bolt and bar the shutter

Call down the hawk from the air Come, let me sing into your ear Come play with me Cumhal the king, being angry and sad

Dear Craoibhin Aoibhin, look into our case Dear fellow-artist, why so free

Far off, most secret, and inviolate Rose Five-and-twenty years have gone

God grant a blessing on this tower and cottage

Hands, do what you're bid How should the world be luckier if this house Hurry to bless the hands that play

I am worn out with dreams I cried when the moon was murmuring to the birds I had this thought awhile ago I hardly hear the curlew cry I have heard the pigeons of the Seven Woods I have no happiness in dreaming of Brycelinde I heard the old, old men say I know that I shall meet my fate I think it better that in times like these I thought of your beauty and this arrow I thought no more was needed I swayed upon the gaudy stern I went out to the hazel wood I whispered, "I am too young," I would be ignorant as the dawn If any man drew near I'll say and maybe dream I have drawn content

King Eochaid came at sundown to a wood

Maeve the great queen was pacing to and fro May God be praised for woman My dear, my dear, I know

Now must I these three praise Now that we're almost settled in our house Now all the truth is out

O heart, be at peace, because O sweet everlasting Voices be still On the grey rock of Cashel the mind's eye On the grey sand beside the shallow stream Once, when midnight smote the air One had a lovely face One that is ever kind said yesterday Others because you did not keep Out yonder, where the race course is Out-worn heart, in a time out-worn

Pardon, old fathers, if you still remain Poets with whom I learned my trade Put off that mask of burning gold

Sang Solomon to Sheba She is foremost of those that I would hear praised She lived in storm and strife She might, so noble from head Sickness brought me this Some may have blamed you that you took away Stand up and lift your hand and bless Suddenly I saw the cold and rook delighting Heaven Swear by what the sages spoke Swift has sailed into his rest

That cry's from the first cuckoo of the year The cat went here and there The Danann children laugh, in cradles of wrought gold The fascination of what's difficult The host is riding from Knocknarea The old brown thorn trees break in two high over Cummen Strand The trees are in their autumn beauty There is a queen in China, or maybe it's in Spain There is grey in your hair There's many a strong farmer These are the clouds about the fallen sun This great purple butterfly This night has been so strange that it seemed Though leaves are many, the root is one Though logic-choppers rule the town Time drops in decay

We sat together at one summer's end 'What have I earned for all that work,' I said What need you, being come to sense When have I last looked on When I play on my fiddle in Dooney Where, where but here have Pride and Truth Why should I blame her that she filled my days Wine comes in at the mouth With the old kindness, the old distinguished grace Would I could cast a sail on the water "Would it were anything but merely voice!"

You gave but will not give again You say, as I have often given tongue