The Celtic Twilight: Faerie and Folklore

Read Books Ltd
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“The Celtic Twilight” is a series of stories from Irish folklore by Irish poet W. B. Yeats. Beautifully and poetically written, they present a vivid portrait of those who lived near to the land in Ireland. Highly recommended for poetry lovers and those with an interest in Ireland. William Butler Yeats (13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939) was an Irish poet and one of the most prolific literary figures of the 20th-century. At the forefront of both the British and Irish literary movements, he co-founded the Abbey Theatre and was, along with Lady Gregory, Edward Martyn and others, a driving force behind the Irish Literary Revival. In his later life, Yeats also served as a Senator in Ireland. Many vintage books such as this are becoming increasingly scarce and expensive. We are republishing this volume now in an affordable, modern, high-quality edition complete with a specially commissioned new biography of the author.
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Additional Information

Publisher
Read Books Ltd
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Published on
Jul 21, 2017
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Pages
163
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ISBN
9781473349384
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Language
English
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Genres
Fiction / Classics
Fiction / Fairy Tales, Folk Tales, Legends & Mythology
Fiction / Fantasy / General
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Content Protection
This content is DRM protected.
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Read Aloud
Available on Android devices
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Eligible for Family Library

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A storm is coming . . .

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Book 7
This is the seventh volume of a new series of publications by Delphi Classics, the best-selling publisher of classical works. Many poetry collections are often poorly formatted and difficult to read on eReaders. The Delphi Poets Series offers readers the works of literature's finest poets, with superior formatting. This volume presents the poetical works and plays of W. B. Yeats, with illustrations and the usual Delphi bonus material. (Version: 1)

* Beautifully illustrated with images relating to Yeats' life and works
* Concise introductions to the poetry and other works
* Ten poetry collections – the most poems possible due to US copyright restrictions
* Images of how the poetry books were first printed, giving your eReader a taste of the original texts
* Excellent formatting of the poems and plays
* Special chronological and alphabetical contents tables for the poetry
* Easily locate the poems you want to read
* 19 plays, including rare dramas appearing for the first time in digital print
* Features two autobiographies - discover Yeats' literary life
* Scholarly ordering of texts into chronological order and literary genres

Please note: to comply with US copyright restrictions, poetry collections, plays and autobiographical works published after 1922 cannot appear in this volume. Once these later works enter the US public domain, they will be added as a free update to the eBook.

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CONTENTS

The Poetry Collections
THE WANDERINGS OF OISIN AND OTHER POEMS
THE COUNTESS KATHLEEN AND VARIOUS LEGENDS AND LYRICS
THE WIND AMONG THE REEDS
Poems from THE SHADOWY WATERS
TWO NARRATIVE POEMS
IN THE SEVEN WOODS
THE GREEN HELMET AND OTHER POEMS
RESPONSIBILITIES
THE WILD SWANS AT COOLE
MICHAEL ROBARTES AND THE DANCER

The Poems
LIST OF POEMS IN CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER
LIST OF POEMS IN ALPHABETICAL ORDER

The Plays
THE COUNTESS CATHLEEN
THE LAND OF HEART’S DESIRE
DIARMUID AND GRANIA
WHERE THERE IS NOTHING
CATHLEEN NI HOULIHAN
THE HOUR-GLASS
THE POT OF BROTH
THE KING’S THRESHOLD
ON BAILE’S STRAND
DEIRDRE
THE UNICORN FROM THE STARS
THE GREEN HELMET
THE SHADOWY WATERS
THE HOUR-GLASS (VERSE VERSION)
AT THE HAWK’S WELL
THE DREAMING OF THE BONES
THE ONLY JEALOUSY OF EMER
CALVARY
THE PLAYER QUEEN

The Autobiographies
REVERIES OVER CHILDHOOD AND YOUTH
THE TREMBLING OF THE VEIL
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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