Collected Poems

Macmillan Collector's Library

Book 13
Pan Macmillan
293
Free sample

As well as being one of the major literary figures of the twentieth century and the recipient of the 1923 Nobel Prize for Literature, William Butler Yeats (1865-1939) is the greatest lyric poet that Ireland has produced. His early work includes the beguiling 'When You are Old', 'The Cloths of Heaven' and 'The Lake Isle of Innisfree' but, unusually for a poet, Yeats's later works, including 'Parnell's Funeral', surpass even those of his youth.

All are present in this volume, which reproduces the 1933 edition of W. B. Yeats's Collected Poems and also contains an illuminating introduction by author and academic Dr Robert Mighall.

Designed to appeal to the booklover, the Macmillan Collector's Library is a series of beautiful gift editions of much loved classic titles. Macmillan Collector's Library are books to love and treasure.

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About the author

William Butler Yeats was born in 1865 in County Dublin. With his much-loved early poems such as 'The Stolen Child', and 'He Remembers Forgotten Beauty', he defined the Celtic Twilight mood of the late-Victorian period and led the Irish Literary Renaissance. Yet his style evolved constantly, and he is acknowledged as a major figure in literary modernism and twentieth-century European letters. T. S. Eliot described him as 'one of those few whose history is the history of their own time, who are part of the consciousness of an age which cannot be understood without them'. W. B. Yeats died in 1939.
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Additional Information

Publisher
Pan Macmillan
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Published on
Jul 14, 2016
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Pages
472
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ISBN
9781509826865
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Features
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Language
English
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Genres
Poetry / European / English, Irish, Scottish, Welsh
Poetry / General
Poetry / Subjects & Themes / General
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Content Protection
This content is DRM protected.
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Eligible for Family Library

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John Keats
This carefully crafted ebook: “The Complete Poetry of John Keats” is formatted for your eReader with a functional and detailed table of contents. John Keats (1795–1821) was an English Romantic poet. The poetry of Keats is characterized by sensual imagery, most notably in the series of odes. Today his poems and letters are some of the most popular and most analyzed in English literature. Table of Contents: Introduction: Life of John Keats by Sidney Colvin Ode Ode on a Grecian Urn Ode to Apollo Ode to Fanny Ode on Indolence Ode on Melancholy Ode to Psyche Ode to a Nightingale Sonnets Sonnet: When I Have Fears That I May Cease to Be Sonnet on the Sonnet Sonnet to Chatterton Sonnet Written in Disgust of Vulgar Superstition Sonnet: Why Did I Laugh Tonight? No Voice Will Tell Sonnet to a Cat Sonnet Written Upon the Top of Ben Nevis Sonnet: This Pleasant Tale is Like a Little Copse Sonnet - The Human Seasons Sonnet to Homer Sonnet to A Lady Seen for a Few Moments at Vauxhall Sonnet on Visiting the Tomb of Burns Sonnet on Leigh Hunt’s Poem ‘the Story of Rimini’ Sonnet: A Dream, After Reading Dante’s Episode of Paulo and Francesco Sonnet to Sleep Sonnet Written in Answer to a Sonnet Ending Thus: Sonnet: After Dark Vapours Have Oppress’d Our Plains Sonnet to John Hamilton Reynolds Sonnet on Sitting Down to Read King Lear Once Again Sonnet: Before He Went to Feed with Owls and Bats Sonnet Written in the Cottage Where Burns Was Born Sonnet to The Nile Sonnet on Peace Sonnet on Hearing the Bagpipe and Sonnet: Oh! How I Love, on a Fair Summer’s Eve Sonnet to Byron Sonnet to Spenser Sonnet: As from the Darkening Gloom A Silver Dove Sonnet on the Sea Sonnet to Fanny Sonnet to Ailsa Rock Sonnet on a Picture of Leander Translation from a Sonnet of Ronsard Two Sonnets on Fame Lamia Isabella Endymion Hyperion Stanzas Spenserian Stanza Spenserian Stanzas on Charles Armitage Brown Stanzas to Miss Wylie Robin Hood The Eve of St. Agnes Modern Love On First Looking into Chapman’s Homer Imitation of Spenser…
W. B. Yeats
CUCHULAIN AND HIS CYCLE

The Church when it was most powerful taught learned and unlearned to climb, as it were, to the great moral realities through hierarchies of Cherubim and Seraphim, through clouds of Saints and Angels who had all their precise duties and privileges. The story-tellers of Ireland, perhaps of every primitive country, imagined as fine a fellowship, only it was to the æsthetic realities they would have had us climb. They created for learned and unlearned alike, a communion of heroes, a cloud of stalwart witnesses; but because they were as much excited as a monk over his prayers, they did not think sufficiently about the shape of the poem and the story. We have to get a little weary or a little distrustful of our subject, perhaps, before we can lie awake thinking how to make the most of it. They were more anxious to describe energetic characters, and to invent beautiful stories, than to express themselves with perfect dramatic logic or in perfectly-ordered words. They shared their characters and their stories, their very images, with one another, and handed them down from generation to generation; for nobody, even when he had added some new trait, or some new incident, thought of claiming for himself what so obviously lived its own merry or mournful life. The maker of images or worker in mosaic who first put Christ upon a cross would have as soon claimed as his own a thought which was perhaps put into his mind by Christ himself. The Irish poets had also, it may be, what seemed a supernatural sanction, for a chief poet had to understand not only innumerable kinds of poetry, but how to keep himself for nine days in a trance. Surely they believed or half believed in the historical reality of even their wildest imaginations. And so soon as Christianity made their hearers desire a chronology that would run side by side with that of the Bible, they delighted in arranging their Kings and Queens, the shadows of forgotten mythologies, in long lines that ascended to Adam and his Garden.


Book 3
I.

At the end of the eighties my father and mother, my brother and sisters and myself, all newly arrived from Dublin, were settled in Bedford Park in a red-brick house with several wood mantlepieces copied from marble mantlepieces by the brothers Adam, a balcony, and a little garden shadowed by a great horse-chestnut tree. Years before we had lived there, when the crooked, ostentatiously picturesque streets, with great trees casting great shadows, had been anew enthusiasm: the Pre-Raphaelite movement at last affecting life. But now exaggerated criticism had taken the place of enthusiasm; the tiled roofs, the first in modern London, were said to leak, which they did not, and the drains to be bad, though that was no longer true; and I imagine that houses were cheap. I remember feeling disappointed because the co-operative stores, with their little seventeenth century panes, were so like any common shop; and because the public house, called 'The Tabard' after Chaucer's Inn, was so plainly a common public house; and because the great sign of a trumpeter designed by Rooke, the Pre-Raphaelite artist, had been freshened by some inferior hand. The big red-brick church had never pleased me, and I was accustomed, when I saw the wooden balustrade that ran along the slanting edge of the roof, where nobody ever walked or could walk, to remember the opinion of some architect friend of my father's, that it had been put there to keep the birds from falling off. Still, however, it had some village characters and helped us to feel not wholly lost in the metropolis. I no longer went to church as a regular habit, but go I sometimes did, for one Sunday morning I saw these words painted on a board in the porch: 'The congregation are requested to kneel during prayers; the kneelers are afterwards to be hung upon pegs provided for the purpose.' In front of every seat hung a little cushion, and these cushions were called 'kneelers.' Presently the joke ran through the community, where there were many artists, who considered religion at best an unimportant accessory to good architecture and who disliked that particular church.

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