Nico+Mao

// **William Butler Yeats** //

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 eyes As though they'd wrought it. Song, let them take it, For there's more enterprise In walking naked. || //‍Analysis #1 ‍// Yeats develops a complex image of a cocoon-like coat, shielding the wearer from the world with a glorified exterior of embellishments. The coat distracts people with the obvious and inhibits the revelation of any truths. But by the end of the poem, he opts to walk “naked” since “there’s more enterprise.” The transition from from the overly-elaborate coat to a raw, honest state of undress mimics a soul-searching journey. The speaker shields himself from the world in a decadent textile of lies, but once “the fools caught [on to] it,” he decides to “let them take it,” and walk naked instead. It is human nature to self-embellish as an attempt to compensate for flaws. This need to seem perfect and please others eventually weaves itself into a cycle. It is hard to change the daily patterns of life, even if they are detrimental and conflict with one’s core self. The speaker is only able to break free from his cyclical chain of lies after getting “caught” and exposed. Sometimes secrets need to be outed in order to prompt growth. In this case, the unwanted exposure ends up benefitting the speaker. He reevaluates the situation and decides to “let them take [the lies]” and walk naked, or honestly instead. This change in lifestyle, which had to be prompted by an external force, allows the speaker to embrace his inner-self, rather than modifying his exterior to suit those around him. This break away from social norms, Yeats believes, is more liberating and internally enterprising than self-objectification into a glamorized but hollow coat-of-a-self. This poem is known as Yeats' coming-of-age work. In his earlier years as a poet, he would write about “old mythologies” from Ireland in a formulaically “song[-like]” fashion. These allusions formed a coat. His early work was thought provoking and done well – the coat only covered “heel to throat,” leaving his intelligent head exposed – but said little about Yeats as a person. In this poem, he realizes that he would gain more from baring his soul and writing about his own conflicts. Yeats would rather walk in his own skin, than a skin of meaningless fluff. --- || ‍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, have only my dreams; I have spread my dreams under your feet; Tread softly because you tread on my dreams. //Performed by Anthony Hopkins// media type="youtube" key="wejEEciHlDQ?version=3" height="272" width="350" || //Analysis #2// Starting with the phrase “had I,” the poem sets up an impossibly hypothetical situation. The speaker wishes for “heavens' embroidered cloths,” not for himself, but rather for an unknown other. If he “had” the cloths, suffocated with extravagant adornments of gold and silver light, he would spread them under that certain someone’s feet. Since this poem is by William Butler Yeats, it is safe to assume the person whom would receive this godly gift is his lifelong obsession, Maud Gonne. Yeats compares heavens’ cloths, which are “Of night and light and the half-light,” to the changing sky, embroidered with glimmering constellations. Yeats mimics the rhythm of needlework in the third and fourth lines. “The blue,” “the dim,” “the dark,” all separated by “and[s],” remind me of a needle piercing in and out of fabric. The repeating vowel sounds in “night,” “light,” and the “half-light” also embody the motion of embroidery. Yeats makes “the half-light” stand out by leaving the “the” off of “night” and “light.” Relationships are rarely as clear-cut as pitch black and bright sunlight, so it makes sense for him to draw attention to the murky “half-light.” The sky encompasses the entire physical world, while the cloths encompass all emotions. The love Yeats feels toward Gonne makes him “wish” to give her everything he possibly can. The promise of placing the panoptic cloths under her feet is an endearingly desperate attempt to have his emotional investment reciprocated. Yeats would do anything for Gonne’s love. The poem takes a turn by the sixth line. Instead of continuing to spew the hypothetical, Yeats shifts toward reality. Yeats, “being poor,” substitutes the celestial cloths with his dreams. Although the dreams are unknown, the cloths of the heavens’ glorified description make the speaker’s desires seem modest by comparison. He opts to “spread” those dreams “under [her] feet” since they are all a poor, material-less man has to offer. The power shifts. Not only has Gonne captured Yeats’ heart, now she treads on his dreams. Maud could easily use Yeats’ words, which express his weaknesses, to tear him down. After bravely spewing all of his emotions, Yeats is left in a vulnerable position; his future depends on the softness of her every step. What I love about this poem is Yeats’ ability to take untouchable, mystically divine imagery of the heavens and brings it down to an unmistakably human level. Unlike other poets who use small personal vignettes to describe universal conflicts, Yeats literally takes the universe and uses it to express his love toward Maud. Anyone who has ever loved or been loved can relate to the nonsensical, dog-like devotion and vulnerability. --- || 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. || //‍Analysis #3 ‍// This poem’s simplicity amazes me. ‍In only six lines, Yeats manages to deliver a complex crapshoot of emotion. ‍ Every other line rhymes, which gives the poem a nice flow. The fluidity is masterfully fitting since the poem starts with a description of wine “com[ing] in at the mouth.” The speaker goes on to claim “love comes in at the eye,” but does not elaborate. It seems he only knows where love enters, not where it ends up or what it does. While looking at the person across the table, he is unable to comprehend and experience the overbearing infatuation of all-engulfing love. There is no shared, gut connection between the two; the only love he experiences is though his eyes. His affection is one-sided. For the speaker, love comes in at the eyes, and “That's all [he] shall know for truth.” Isolation is his reality. Drinking songs are usually delightfully frivolous to counteract the depressant qualities of alcohol. But Yeats is not the typical drinking buddy; he’s in touch with his emotions and does not hide from them. Instead of pacifying his issues while drinking, Yeats examines them. Although the subject matter is serious, Yeats' rhyming pattern and short lines gives the poem a nice, catchy ring while sung. Just like wine, this poem – although enjoyable – can leave a bitter taste in the mouths of certain tasters. As the speaker lifts his wineglass, he looks at the person he loves and sighs. I believe this is a sigh of sorrow. He wants the one he cannot have. But the beauty of this poem is it can be interpreted in multiple ways. I am sure there are people in devoted, loving relationships who see the sigh as a gesture of relief and gratitude. The “you” he looks at could even be the wine. Maybe this poem is really about alcoholism’s affect on a man’s love life. It is completely up for interpretation – and depending on that interpretation, a lot can be said about the reader and their personal struggles. --- || Earth in beauty dressed Awaits returning spring. All true love must die, Alter at the best Into some lesser thing. Prove that I lie. Such body lovers have, Such exacting breath, That they touch or sigh. Every touch they give, Love is nearer death. Prove that I lie. //Maud Gonne// || //‍Analysis #4 ‍// Yeats compares his lover to the earth since she too is his world. Although their love is strong, she still anxiously “awaits” the return of “spring,” a symbol of life and rejuvenation. She wants to revive her love life to its younger, more glorious days. But in Yeats’ pessimistically passionate eyes, true love dies. Even during the most lively, exhilarating physical acts, time passes. With each “touch” and “sigh” shared between lovers, the second hand ticks, drawing love “nearer death.” Nothing can stop time. Although this fact is undebatable, it is still hard to fathom. To the romantics, Yeats defensively asks to “Prove that [he] lie[s].” As pessimistic as it may seem, the events in Yeats’ life lead him to believe familiarity does not make the heart grown fonder. His greatest passion was for a married woman he loved from afar, Maud Gonne. It is human nature to strive to improve, but when “the best” is “alter[ed],” it can only turn into “some lesser thing.” Couples crave to improve their relationships, but when they try to alter their bond at its peak, their love slowly declines into a lesser version of its formerly glorious self. Even with good intentions, the never-satisfied mind inadvertently leads love to its demise. The structure of the poem mimics – what Yeats believes to be – the cycle of love. He starts off with broad, sweeping statements about the “Earth in beauty dressed,” then slowly dwindles off into shorter, choppy sentences about small gestures of “touch or sigh,” and finally ends with a statement of imminent “death” and a whisper to “Prove that I lie.” The poem is also split into two equal stanzas, which, on a blank white page, could symbolize two lovers. ‍Although Yeats’ view on love’s shelf life is pessimistic, it seems to be a coping mechanism. His intense love for Maud Gonne was never mutual; she turned down every one of his four proposals and married another man. If Yeats wrote to deal with his internal struggles, it would make sense for him to declare all love must die; it makes his failure to marry Gonne easier to accept since their love would not have lasted in any scenario. ‍ --- || That crazed girl improvising her music. Her poetry, dancing upon the shore, Her soul in division from itself Climbing, falling She knew not where, Hiding amid the cargo of a steamship, Her knee-cap broken, that girl I declare A beautiful lofty thing, or a thing Heroically lost, heroically found. No matter what disaster occurred She stood in desperate music wound, Wound, wound, and she made in her triumph Where the bales and the baskets lay No common intelligible sound But sang, ‘O sea-starved, hungry sea.' //This video shows the lyrical quality of Yeat's poetry// media type="youtube" key="BWo_PtMu5So?version=3" height="213" width="350" || //‍Analysis #5 ‍// The “crazed girl” is an embodiment of internal freedom. Her music is “improvis[ed]” and natural, not stiff and contrived like many musicians of Yeats’ time. Rather than sitting still in black ink, her poetry “dances upon the shore.” Her spirit is not trapped in the confines of her body; it climbs and falls as it feels fit. Her soul is so developed, she cannot even consciously control it. Yeats describes it as is “in division from itself,” as visually shown through the break in lines. Yeats goes on to examine the girl’s broken knee-cap. He does not see the injury as a flaw, but rather a key quirk to her image. In this section of the poem, he refers to her as a “thing” twice. Since Yeats objectifies her in this section of the poem, it can be inferred the injury was attained in the past by performing crude acts, necessary for survival on the streets. Forced to sell herself, she is “a thing / Heroically lost.” But since the hardships of her past give her an understanding of the world rivaling that of a weathered adult //and// contribute to her overall self-awareness, she is simultaneously “heroically found.” Repeating the word “wound” three times, Yeats affirms the girl’s flaws as the source of her excellence. She manages to make her shortcomings “her triumph[s].” The play on opposites show the overarching paradox: her spiritual freedom, which feeds her creativity, also seems to drive her toward insanity. The girl’s free spirit truly resonates with Yeats as she sings “No common intelligible sound[s].” Even though Yeats admits he cannot understand her lyrics, he goes on to say she sang “O sea-starved, hungry sea.” Since he could not hear her words, Yeats interjects his emotions at this point of the poem. He is the sea. He is starved. The poem shows an internal urge to break free from the strict social codes of Yeats’ Ireland. I believe Yeats sees a more natural and free version of his core self in the girl. Instead of living and breathing his art in front of the public at all hours, Yeats chose to inject his soul and truths into his poetry, a socially acceptable creative outlet. If he had the courage – or perhaps insanity – of the crazed girl, he too could find himself in an existence like hers, living for himself first. --- || Although I shelter from the rain Under a broken tree My chair was nearest to the fire In every company That talked of love or politics, Ere Time transfigured me. Though lads are making pikes again For some conspiracy, And crazy rascals rage their fill At human tyranny, My contemplations are of Time That has transfigured me. There's not a woman turns her face Upon a broken tree, And yet the beauties that I loved Are in my memory; I spit into the face of Time That has transfigured me. || //Analysis #6// Written in the voice of an “old pensioner,” Yeats’ poem shows the toll time can take on a man’s morale. The young around him talk of “love and politics.” Their passion serves as the man’s “fire,” warming him as he sits silently in his chair. Even so, their words remind the speaker of his age. “Crazy rascals” “are making pikes again / For some conspiracy,” most likely about Irish nationalism. Rather than debate politics and take action, the old man’s “contemplations” are centered around larger themes of questioning existence and “Time,” which Yeats highlights by making a proper noun. He cannot relate to their concerns, and therefore sounds a bit embittered. This grumpy outer shell is the “broken tree” behind which he “shelter[s]” his fragility “from the rain.” The speaker claims “There’s not a woman” who wants to look at “a broken tree,” or an old man’s exterior. In the present, he is without love, so he keeps “beauties” he “//loved//” in his “memory.” Left with just the memories of happiness, it is no wonder the man feels like a “broken tree.” Only thinking about and learns from the past, he does not grow from his actions in the present. His current existence is solely about sustaining his life. He does not try to prosper. In contrast with some of Yeats’ “The Man Who dreamed of Faeryland,” this poem shows the dangers – not glory – of silent contemplations. Because the memories of his finer days make his current life seem bleak by comparison, the old pensioner feels no passion for current political issues or activism in general. Personifying a concept, Yeats has the man “spit into the face of Time,” again capitalized as a proper noun, since “Time” has shown absolutely no respect for the man’s aging body. At the end of each stanza Yeats shows the man’s powerless position by having the speaker say ‍“Time...has transfigured me” ‍ instead of saying “//I// have been transfigured by time.” Yeats’ negative take on contemplation and aging shows the difference between the idealized and the real. When he was younger, he wrote about how lovely it would be to live on his own and meditate. But fourteen years before his death and after a life’s worth of firsthand experience, Yeats realized the ugliness of solitude and time, which he channeled into this poem. --- || What lively lad most pleasured me Of all that with me lay? I answer that I gave my soul And loved in misery, But had great pleasure with a lad That I loved bodily. Flinging from his arms I laughed To think his passion such He fancied that I gave a soul Did but our bodies touch, And laughed upon his breast to think Beast gave beast as much. I gave what other women gave That stepped out of their clothes. But when this soul, its body off, Naked to naked goes, He it has found shall find therein What none other knows, And give his own and take his own And rule in his own right; And though it loved in misery Close and cling so tight, There's not a bird of day that dare Extinguish that delight. || //Analysis #7// When asked which “lad” she most enjoyed the most, the speaker explains how she “gave [her] soul” to “a lad / That she loved bodily.” Although she got the most “pleasure” from him, she describes the love as “in misery” due to the disparity in their approaches to love. She mistakenly gave her soul to a man, only to realize she love him bodily. Yeats uses this scenario to distinguish the difference between love through the soul and love through the body. Instead of describing the physical love through emotions, Yeats uses body parts: “his arms,” “his breast,” etc. He also expresses the primitive nature of the love by characterizing the couple as “Beast[s].” The lack of emotional development in the relationship satisfies the speaker’s physical needs, but leaves her exposed soul wanting more. To make matters worse, the lover does not know how to handle the speaker’s emotional needs. Many other women have stepped “out of their clothes” for him, but never has he had someone whose “soul” was also “naked.” Even with the misery, the speaker asserts no one would “dare / Extinguish” the physical “delight.” The man’s physical capabilities serve as an entrancing lure, keeping the speaker by his side. To express this the man’s control over his partner’s sexual desires, Yeats repeats “his own” three times rather than “our own.” The gap in power contributes to the lack of spiritual love and allows the bodily love to take over. Since the poem is written about a sexual relationship with a man, it is easy to believe Yeats is admitting to a homosexual relationship. But because of his open obsession with Maud Gonne, I believe he is writing from a female’s perspective. In the third stanza, the speaker says, “I gave what other women gave.” Since Yeats deliberately says “other women,” it is implied the speaker is also female. Yeats’ “last confession” – passionate sex can outshine soul-to-soul attraction due to our animalistic nature – is contrary to what society wants to believe, making it controversial. By writing from a female’s perspective, Yeats is able to deliver his socially unacceptable truth while keeping a comfortable distance for himself. --- || Beloved, gaze in thine own heart, The holy tree is growing there; From joy the holy branches start, And all the trembling flowers they bear. The changing colours of its fruit Have dowered the stars with metry light; The surety of its hidden root Has planted quiet in the night; The shaking of its leafy head Has given the waves their melody, And made my lips and music wed, Murmuring a wizard song for thee. There the Loves a circle go, The flaming circle of our days, Gyring, spiring to and fro In those great ignorant leafy ways; Remembering all that shaken hair And how the winged sandals dart, Thine eyes grow full of tender care: Beloved, gaze in thine own heart. Gaze no more in the bitter glass The demons, with their subtle guile. Lift up before us when they pass, Or only gaze a little while; For there a fatal image grows That the stormy night receives, Roots half hidden under snows, Broken boughs and blackened leaves. For ill things turn to barrenness In the dim glass the demons hold, The glass of outer weariness, Made when God slept in times of old. There, through the broken branches, go The ravens of unresting thought; Flying, crying, to and fro, Cruel claw and hungry throat, Or else they stand and sniff the wind, And shake their ragged wings; alas! Thy tender eyes grow all unkind: Gaze no more in the bitter glass. || //Analysis #8// Yeats describes his lover’s interior as a “‍holy tree ‍.” The tree’s “holy branches” stem from “joy,” and bear color-changing fruit. The fruit seem to represent his lover’s soul, which changes color and grows but never ages. Her soul’s “ignorant leafy ways” are not a sign of stupidity, but rather of “great” innocence and purity. Yeats uses cyclical phrasing (“waves,” “circle,” “spinning to and fro”) to describe her soul’s lack of a start and stopping point. Rather than beginning young and ending old, his lover is agelessly beautiful on the inside. Even though Yeats has a fair picture of her inner spirit, there are still mysterious “hidden root[s]” that keep his interest. The roots are “planted quiet in the night,” meaning the missing puzzle piece Yeats has yet to unlock pertains to the intimate acts of night (sexuality, romance, etc.). Yeats cannot entirely understand the woman’s inner workings until they consummate the relationship. The second stanza is the yin to the first’s yang; it examines the opposing forces of the topics already covered in the poem. Instead of asking her to look into her soul’s tree, Yeats asks his love to “Gaze no more in the bitter glass,” or mirror. If she insists on seeing herself, Yeats asks she “only gaze a little while,” for within the mirror lies the opposite of beautiful nature: “demons,” “bareness,” and “blackened leaves.” In the mirror, “a fatal image grows,” not a tree. Here, the roots hide under cold white “snows,” not the dark or night. The snow represents the sagging, wrinkly, dying skin that hides the beauty of her younger years. Yeats fears if his lover continues to look in the mirror, time’s toll on her physical appearance will taint her self-perception. The more she looks, the more her mind will be bombarded by “ravens of unresting thought.” Yeats wants his lover to feel as beautiful as he knows she is, so he would rather her gaze within herself than at her physical self. The mirror shows what time and the world have made of her, not who she is at her core. Yeats contrasts inner beauty with outer beauty in two opposing stanzas to show how deep-rooted his love is. Even with an ever-fading outward appearance, Yeats will never lose sight of his lover’s perpetually glistening inner tree. Outward judgment is dark and dangerous, while optimistic introspection is light and joyous. --- || The brawling of a sparrow in the eaves, The brilliant moon and all the milky sky, And all that famous harmony of leaves, Had blotted out man's image and his cry. A girl arose that had red mournful lips And seemed the greatness of the world in tears, Doomed like Odysseus and the labouring ships And proud as Priam murdered with his peers; Arose, and on the instant clamorous eaves, A climbing moon upon an empty sky, And all that lamentation of the leaves, Could but compose man's image and his cry. || //Analysis #9 ‍// Yeats begins with a description of nature’s glory. The “brilliant moon” in the “milky sky” serves as a backdrop for the “famous harmony of leaves.” The overwhelming beauty of nature, as expressed in the flattering adjectives, “blot[s] out” mankind’s “image” and “cry.” Yeats does not notice even the most dire of man’s struggles as he appreciates nature; it is an escape. That escape is lost upon the “[rising]” of a “girl” with “red mournful lips,” who brought Yeats’ “world” to “tears.” The girl’s seemingly supernatural powers sweep through Yeats’ existence, changing everything in her path. Her unstoppable power parallels the semi-colon at the end of the second stanza. Instead of stopping his train of thought like he did in the stanza before she “arose,” Yeats pauses slightly with the semi-colon, then continues to describe her omnipresence. She has taken over. Once the girl arrives, positive imagery stops. As opposed to their depiction in the first stanza – the “moon” is now “climbing,” the sky feels “empty” and is no longer “milky,” and the formerly harmonious leaves sit in “lamentation.” Although the new descriptions are less joyous, they are more personified and animated. This shift in imagery represents the effect of the red-lipped lady on Yeats’ perception of the world. The objects which once seemed completely content now seem to possess human yearning. Yeats can now “composed man’s image and his cry” amidst and within nature. This new point of view directly contrasts with the end of stanza one. The opposite points of view shows love’s ability to influence all perceptions. Yeats alludes to Greek philosophy as a way to describe the girl’s power over his surroundings. He compares her doom to that of “Odysseus,” the mastermind behind the Trojan Horse. In other words, the girl’s seemingly innocent presence surprisingly turned into a full-fledged attack on his reality. The girl is also as “proud as Prium,” who chose to be “murdered” among common soldiers during the Trojan War, even though he was a king and could have died a noble death. With such pride, she continues to reshape Yeats’ world; she feels no remorse toward Yeats or the nature around him. “The Misery of Love” was written two years after Yeats met Maud Gonne. The poem seems to parallel the dramatic shift in Yeats’ life, which took place after meeting Gonne. Before meeting her, Yeats was satisfied with life. He only paid attention to nature’s beauty, which made mankind’s sorrow seem insignificant by comparison. But after their first encounter, Yeats realized he wanted and needed more in life. The “harmony” in his life halted as he strove to “climb” toward Gonne, just as the moon does to the sky in the third verse. Although the new female presence in his life replaced his illusion of joy with torture, Yeat’s extreme love taught him to see human emotion in everything around him, turning leaves visual “harmony” into soulful “lamentation.” This new outlook on life inspired many of his most acclaimed works. Meeting Maud Gonne was both a curse and blessing. --- || I Dreamed that one had died in a strange place Near no accustomed hand, And they had nailed the boards above her face, The peasants of that land, Wondering to lay her in that solitude, And raised above her mound A cross they had made out of two bits of wood, And planted cypress round; And left her to the indifferent stars above Until I carved these words: She was more beautiful than thy first love, But now lies under boards. //Maud Gonne// || //Analysis #10// Yeats dreams of a loved one’s death in a “strange place.” Without an “accustomed hand,” “peasants” matter-of-factly nail “boards above her face,” then “wander” to find a place of “solitude” to serve as her final resting place. Once the peasants bury her in a simple mound, they plant a “cypress” and place a cross “made out of two bits of wood.” Although the actions of the buriers are certainly not malicious, Yeats characterizes them as semi-antagonists. He makes it seem liker her body was abandoned under the “indifferent stars above.” He uses no passionate words to describe the peasants. They are flat, faceless caricatures, robotically transfixed on finishing the job. The body of his loved one is in their hands. She means the world to Yeats, yet they proceed to bury her in the most efficient, systematic way possible. The transformation of his greatest love’s death into a mere routine torments Yeats. The turn in tone comes when Yeats describes his arrival to the grave site. Once there, he carves “She was more beautiful than thy first love, / But now she lies under boards” on her makeshift grave. The message is full of passion, which was not felt by the peasants. Lovingly defensive, Yeats takes a dig at the people who buried his loved one. He questions how they could care so little about someone prettier – in his opinion – than their “first love,” and how they could just leave her “under boards” like an animal. Through this poem, Yeats asserts beauty should not be wasted at the hands of the unappreciative. Left to rot under a sky of indifference, the Yeats’ lover goes ignored. If Yeats were to bury her, she would receive the respectful, dignified burial he sees fit. But since the peasants do not know her as well as Yeats does, they treat her like anyone else. Everyone deserves to be buried by loved ones. It is an injustice that they are not. The use of circularity and symbolic trees are two threads connecting many of Yeats’ work. In this poem, a lone cypress grows from his lover’s burial site. In “The Two Trees,” Yeats uses a tree as a symbol for his lover’s soul, so it is fitting of him to have an evergreen sprouting from her buried body, symbolizing a spirit’s life beyond the grave. Next to the tree is a wooden cross. The living tree and dead cross show the cycle of life and death. Yeats also expresses the circular pattern by describing the cypress as “round,” even though they often grown in narrow columns. When Yeats’ obsession, Maud Gonne, traveled to France to rest and avoid developing tuberculosis, he feared she would die in an alien land without him. While Maud was on her trip, Yeats made the sweetly deranged decision to send her this poem about his fears. Although the situation described in the poem seems like his worst nightmare, he still classifies it as a “Dream.” What keeps this vision from being a nightmare is the ending. After failed relationship attempts, Yeats cannot expect Gonne to die in his arms. Since he is a writer by trade, having the honor of drafting the description above her tomb would be the next best form of closure for Yeats. --- ||
 * // Poems // || // Analytical Summaries // ||
 * ** A Coat **
 * **He Wishes For The Cloths Of Heaven**
 * **A Drinking Song**
 * **Her Anxiety**
 * **A Crazed Girl**
 * **The Lamentation of the Old Pensioner**
 * **A Last Confession**
 * **The Two Trees**
 * **The Sorrow of Love**
 * **A Dream of Death**

**Voice Threads:** [|http://voicethread.com/?#u2508427.b2928990.i15485896] [|http://voicethread.com/?#u2508427.b2933534.i15486104]

Images: //http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/0/02/Maudgonne.jpg// //http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/c/c2/Maude_Gonne_McBride_nd.jpg// //http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/2/24/WB_Yeats_nd.jpg//

Poetry: //www.poetryfoundation.org// //www.online-literature.com/yeats//