William Butler Yeats Quotes

Propinquity had brought Imagination to that pitch where it casts out All that is not itself. I had grown wild And wandered murmuring everywhere, ‘My child, my child.’

No marble, no conventional phrase, On limestone quarried near the spot By his command these words are cut: Cast a cold eye On life, on death. Horseman, pass by!

Under bare Ben Bulben’s head In Drumcliffe churchyard Yeats is laid, An ancestor was rector there Long years ago; a church stands near, By the road an ancient Cross.

Swear by what the sages spoke Round the Mareotic Lake That the Witch of Atlas knew, Spoke and set the cocks a-crow.