Literature Lovers📕

  BY  WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS I have met them at close of day    Coming with vivid faces From counter or desk among grey    Eighteenth-century houses. I have passed with a nod of the head    Or polite meaningless words,    Or have lingered awhile and said    Polite meaningless words, And thought before I had done    Of a mocking tale or a gibe    To please a companion Around the fire at the club,    Being certain that they and I    But lived where motley is worn:    All changed, changed utterly:    A terrible beauty is born. That woman's days were spent    In ignorant good-will, Her nights in argument Until her voice grew shrill. What voice more sweet than hers    When, young and beautiful,    She rode to harriers? This man had kept a school    And rode our w...

  Marina by  T. S. Eliot Quis hic locus, quae regio, quae mundi plaga? What seas what shores what grey rocks and what islands What water lapping the bow And scent of pine and the woodthrush singing through the fog What images return O my daughter. Those who sharpen the tooth of the dog, meaning Death Those who glitter with the glory of the hummingbird, meaning Death Those who sit in the stye of contentment, meaning Death Those who suffer the ecstasy of the animals, meaning Death Are become unsubstantial, reduced by a wind, A breath of pine, and the woodsong fog By this grace dissolved in place What is this face, less clear and clearer The pulse in the arm, less strong and stronger — Given or lent? more distant than stars and nearer than the eye Whispers and small laughter between leaves and hurrying feet Under sleep, where all the waters meet. Bowsprit cracked with ice and paint cracked with heat. I made this, I have forgotten And remember. The rigging weak and the canvas rott...