W. B. Yeats
Irish poet and dramatist
WORDS ABOUT WORDS
But O, sick children of the world,
Of all the many changing things
In dreary dancing past us whirled,
To the cracked tune that Chronos sings,
Words alone are certain good.
—W. B. Yeats, Irish poet and dramatist, The Song of the Happy Shepherd, 1889
Posted on January 25, 2000 at 7:41 AM
WORDS ABOUT WORDS
All the words that I gather,
And all the words that I write,
Must spread out their wings untiring,
And never rest in their flight,
Till they come where your sad, sad heart is,
And sing to you in the night,
Beyond where the waters are moving,
Storm darkened or starry bright.
—W. B. Yeats, Irish poet and dramatist, Where My Books Go, 1892
Posted on September 22, 1999 at 9:51 PM
WORDS ABOUT WORDS
Words are always getting conventionalized to some secondary meaning. It is one of the works of poetry to take the truants in custody and bring them back to their right senses. Poets are the policemen of language, they are always arresting those old reprobates the words.
—W. B. Yeats, Irish poet and dramatist, letter, 1889
Posted on February 5, 2002 at 8:41 PM
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