Happy Birthday William

As regular followers of this blog will know, I’m rather partial to the odd spot of poetry.  Some keen observers may have noted that one of my favourite poets is William Butler Yeats, who just happened to be born on 13th June 1865.  To mark this legendary poet’s birthday, I’m sharing two of my favourite poems of his with you today.  Enjoy.


by: W. B. Yeats (1865-1939)

HY should I blame her that she filled my days
With misery, or that she would of late
Have taught to ignorant men most violent ways,
Or hurled the little streets upon the great,
Had they but courage equal to desire?
What could have made her peaceful with a mind
That nobleness made simple as a fire,
With beauty like a tightened bow, a kind
That is not natural in an age like this,
Being high and solitary and most stern?
Why, what could she have done, being what she is?
Was there another Troy for her to burn?
Black and white photo of yeats the  poet

William Butler Yeats

The Cloths Of Heaven

Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.