William Butler Yeats - 5 Short Poems (1893-1919)

Forgotten Poets #51: Happy Birthday Yeats!

Albert Edmund Trombly: “Recently I have been reading letters written by J.M. Yeats to his son the poet, in which the father says something to this effect: that which can be explained is not poetry. Without pretending to understand this statement, I suspect it points in the same direction… Poetry should be addressed to the imagination, not to the understanding; should suggest, not narrate; should be concerned with moods rather than facts.” (Rossetti: An Appreciation, 1920)

And, of course, what is the understanding but a particular mode of imagining? What is narration but a kind of causal suggestion? What are facts, but a very precise mood? Happy birthday Yeats! So long, and thanks for all the poetry.

    
              —: The Moods (1893) :—

       Time drops in decay
       Like a candle burnt out;
       The mountains and woods
       Have their day, have their day;
       But, kindly old rout
       Of the fire-born moods
       You pass not away.
    

This is the version Yeats published in The Bookman in 1893, and again in his collection The Celtic Twilight (1894), with the first semi-colon replaced by a comma. By the time he published The Wind Among the Leaves (1899) it had undergone significant edits in the final few lines. For me, the earlier version has a slight edge over the revision. Which do you prefer?

    
              —: The Moods (1899) :—

       Time drops in decay,
       Like a candle burnt out,
       And the mountains and woods
       Have their day, have their day;
       What one in the rout
       Of the fire-born moods,
       Has fallen away?
    

    
              —: The Old Men Admiring Themselves :—
                                In The Water (1903)

       I heard the old, old men say
       “Everything alters,
       And one by one we drop away.”

       They had hands like claws, and their knees
       Were twisted like the old thorn trees
       By the waters.

       I have heard the old, old men say,
       “All that's beautiful drifts away
       Like the waters.”
   

    
              —: A Drinking Song (1910) :—

       Wine comes in at the mouth
       And love comes in at the eye;
       That’s all we shall know for truth
       Before we grow old and die.
       I lift the glass to my mouth,
       I look at you, and I sigh.
    

   
              —: A Coat (1912) :—

       I made my song a coat
       Covered with embroideries
       Out of old mythologies
       From heel to throat;

       But the fools caught it,
       Wore it in the world's eye,
       As though they'd wrought it.

       Song, let them take it
       For there's more enterprise
       In walking naked.
   

   
              —: The Balloon Of The Mind (1919) :—

       Hands, do what you're bid:
       Bring the balloon of the mind
       That bellies and drags in the wind
       Into its narrow shed.
    

     
              —: After W.B. Yeats :—
                      by Dick Whyte

       Cold morning light, these songs will do
       The winter rain streams down—
       And if no more remains of you
       They make the warmest gown.

       I'll wear them as I start my day
       And proudly strip them off
       When spring comes round again to say—
       Laugh loud, but never scoff.
   

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