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Gratis
William Butler Yeats

Ideas of Good and Evil

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  • Katheryn Hardenhar citeretsidste år
    ‘For Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love
    Is God Our Father dear;
    And Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love
    Is man, His child and care.

    For Mercy has a human heart;
    Pity a human face;
    And Love the human form divine;
    And Peace, the human dress.

    Then every man of every clime,
    That prays in his distress,
    Prays to the human form divine—
    Love, Mercy, Pity, Peace.’
    Whenever he gave this symbol a habitation in space he set it in the sun, the father of light and life; and set in the darkness beyond the stars, where light and life die away
  • Katheryn Hardenhar citeretsidste år
    ‘The joy of woman is the death of her beloved,
    Who dies for love of her,
    In torments of fierce jealousy and pangs of adoration.
    The lover’s night bears on my song,
    And the nine spheres rejoice beneath my powerful control.

    They sing unwearied to the notes of my immortal hand.
    The solemn, silent moon
    Reverberates the long harmony sounding upon my limbs.
    The birds and beasts rejoice and play,
    And every one seeks for his mate to prove his inmost joy.

    Furious and terrible they rend the nether deep,
    The deep lifts up his rugged head,
    And lost in infinite hovering wings vanishes with a cry.
    The fading cry is ever dying,
    The living voice is ever living in its inmost
  • Katheryn Hardenhar citeretsidste år
    ‘Tired with all these, for restful death I cry;—
    As, to behold desert a beggar born,
    And needy nothing trimm’d in jollity,
    And purest faith unhappily forsworn,
    And gilded honour shamefully misplaced,
    And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted,
    And right perfection wrongfully disgrac’d,
    And strength by limping sway disabled,
    And Art made tongue-tied by authority,
    And folly, doctor-like, controlling skill,
    And simple truth miscalled simplicity,
    And captive good attending captain ill:
    Tired with all these, from these would I begone
    Save that, to die, I leave my love alone.’

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