Yeats: Texts

 

“In Memory of Major Robert Gregory,” first stanza

Now that we’re almost settled in our house
I’ll name the friends that cannot sup with us
Beside a fire of turf in th’ ancient tower,
And having talked to some late hour
Climb up the narrow winding stair to bed;
Discoverers of forgotten truth
Or mere companions of my youth,
All, all are in my thoughts to-night being dead.

 

“The Wild Swans at Coole,” fifth stanza

But now they drift on the still water,
Mysterious, beautiful;
Among what rushes will they build,
By what lake’s edge or pool
Delight men’s eyes when I awake some day
To find they have flown away.

 

“A Prayer for My Daughter,” first stanza

Once more the storm is howling, and half hid
Under this cradle-hood and coverlid
My child sleeps on. There is no obstacle
But Gregory’s wood and one bare hill
Whereby the haystack- and roof-levelling wind,
Bred on the Atlantic, can be stayed;
And for an hour I have walked and prayed
Because of the great gloom that is in my mind.

 

Abraham Cowley, “On the Death of Mr. William Hervey,” third stanza

My dearest Friend, would I had died for thee!
Life and this world will henceforth tedious be:
Nor shall I know hereafter what to do
If once my griefs prove tedious too.
Silent and sad I walk about all day,
As sullen ghosts stalk speechless by
Where their hid treasures lie;
Alas! My treasure’s gone; why do I stay?