The Complete Works. William Butler Yeats

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      Where has Maid Quiet gone to,

      Nodding her russet hood?

      The winds that awakened the stars

      Are blowing through my blood.

      O how could I be so calm

      When she rose up to depart?

      Now words that called up the lightning

      Are hurtling through my heart.

THE TRAVAIL OF PASSION

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      When the flaming lute-thronged angelic door is wide;

      When an immortal passion breathes in mortal clay;

      Our hearts endure the scourge, the plaited thorns, the way

      Crowded with bitter faces, the wounds in palm and side,

      The hyssop-heavy sponge, the flowers by Kidron stream:

      We will bend down and loosen our hair over you,

      That it may drop faint perfume, and be heavy with dew,

      Lilies of death-pale hope, roses of passionate dream.

THE LOVER PLEADS WITH HIS FRIEND FOR OLD FRIENDS

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      Though you are in your shining days,

      Voices among the crowd

      And new friends busy with your praise,

      Be not unkind or proud,

      But think about old friends the most:

      Time’s bitter flood will rise,

      Your beauty perish and be lost

      For all eyes but these eyes.

A LOVER SPEAKS TO THE HEARERS OF HIS SONGS IN COMING DAYS

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      O, women, kneeling by your altar rails long hence,

      When songs I wove for my beloved hide the prayer,

      And smoke from this dead heart drifts through the violet air

      And covers away the smoke of myrrh and frankincense;

      Bend down and pray for the great sin I wove in song,

      Till Mary of the wounded heart cry a sweet cry,

      And call to my beloved and me: ‘No longer fly

      Amid the hovering, piteous, penitential throng.’

THE POET PLEADS WITH THE ELEMENTAL POWERS

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      The Powers whose name and shape no living creature knows

      Have pulled the Immortal Rose;

      And though the Seven Lights bowed in their dance and wept,

      The Polar Dragon slept,

      His heavy rings uncoiled from glimmering deep to deep:

      When will he wake from sleep?

      Great Powers of falling wave and wind and windy fire,

      With your harmonious choir

      Encircle her I love and sing her into peace,

      That my old care may cease;

      Unfold your flaming wings and cover out of sight

      The nets of day and night.

      Dim Powers of drowsy thought, let her no longer be

      Like the pale cup of the sea,

      When winds have gathered and sun and moon burned dim

      Above its cloudy rim;

      But let a gentle silence wrought with music flow

      Whither her footsteps go.

HE WISHES HIS BELOVED WERE DEAD

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      Were you but lying cold and dead,

      And lights were paling out of the West,

      You would come hither, and bend your head,

      And I would lay my head on your breast;

      And you would murmur tender words,

      Forgiving me, because you were dead:

      Nor would you rise and hasten away,

      Though you have the will of the wild birds,

      But know your hair was bound and wound

      About the stars and moon and sun:

      O would, beloved, that you lay

      Under the dock-leaves in the ground,

      While lights were paling one by one.

HE WISHES FOR THE CLOTHS OF HEAVEN

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      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, СКАЧАТЬ