Quote #168
Irish poets, earn your trade, Sing whatever is well made, Scorn the sort now growing up All out of shape from toe to top, Their unremembering hearts and heads Base-born products of base beds.
More from William Butler Yeats
- Now that my ladder's gone, I must lie down where all the ladders start In the foul rag-and-bone shop of the heart.
- Under bare Ben Bulben's head In Drumcliff churchyard Yeats is laid.
- Players and painted stage took all my love, And not those things that they were emblems of.
- 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 deat…
- I have found nothing half so good As my long-planned half solitude, Where I can sit up half the night With some friend that has the wit Not…
- Being Irish, he had an abiding sense of tragedy which sustained him through temporary periods of joy.
- Because there is safety in derision I talked about an apparition, I took no trouble to convince, Or seem plausible to a man of sense.
- Education is not the filling of a pail, but the lighting of a fire.