W. B. Yeats
poet · Dublin, Ireland · Sligo · 1865–1939
A poet who made poems of Ireland's old stories and its dream of independence. He loved one woman for many years, and she refused his proposals every time.
Posts
1899
But I, being poor, have only my dreams; I have spread my dreams under your feet; Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
"He Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven," in The Wind Among the Reeds
1899
And pluck till time and times are done, The silver apples of the moon, The golden apples of the sun.
"The Song of Wandering Aengus," in The Wind Among the Reeds
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