Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE SONG OF THE HAPPY SHEPHERD, by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: The woods of arcady are dead Last Line: Dream, dream, for this is also sooth. Alternate Author Name(s): Yeats, W. B. Subject(s): Language; Truth; Shepherds & Shepherdesses | ||||||||
The woods of Arcady are dead, And over is their antique joy; Of old the world on dreaming fed; Gray truth is now her painted toy; Yet still she turns her restless head: But O, sick children of the world, Of all the many changing things In dreary dancing past us whirled, To the cracked tune that Chronos sings, Words alone are certain good. Where are now the warring kings? An idle word is now their glory, By the stammering schoolboy said, Reading some entangled story: The kings of the old time are fled. The wandering earth herself may be Only a sudden flaming word, In clanging space a moment heard, Troubling the endless reverie. Then nowise worship dusty deeds, Nor seek; for this is also sooth; To hunger fiercely after truth, Lest all thy tolling only breeds New dreams, new dreams; there is no truth Saving in thine own heart. Seek, then, No learning from the starry men, Who follow the optic glass The whirling ways of stars that pass -- Seek, then, for this is also sooth, No word of theirs -- the cold star-bane Has cloven and rent their hearts in twain, And dead is all their human truth. Go gather by the humming-sea Some twisted, echo-harbouring shell, And to its lips thy story tell, And they thy comforters will be, Rewarding in melodious guile, Thy fretful words a little while, Till they shall singing fade in truth, And die a pearly brotherhood; For words alone are certain good: Sing, then, for this is also sooth. I must be gone: there is a grave Where daffodil and lily wave, And I would please the hapless faun, Buried under the sleepy ground, With mirthful songs before the dawn. His shouting days with mirth were crowned; And still I dream he treads the lawn, Walking ghostly in the dew, Pierced by my glad singing through, My songs of old earth's dreamy youth: But ah! she dreams not now; dream thou! For fair are poppies on the brow: Dream, dream, for this is also sooth. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LOVING SHEPHERDESS by ROBINSON JEFFERS THE SHEPHERD by ARTHUR CHRISTOPHER BENSON A TIMOROUS SHEPHERD by MORRIS GILBERT BISHOP THE HEART'S RETURN by EDWIN MARKHAM THE SONG OF THE SHEPHERDS by EDWIN MARKHAM THE GREEN SHEPHERD by LOUIS SIMPSON AUTOCHTHONIC TERCET: 2 by CESAR VALLEJO THE STORY THE SHEPHERD TELLS THE SHEEP by LUCILLE CLIFTON THE SHEPHERD, FR. SONGS OF INNOCENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE SIXTEEN DEAD MEN by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS |
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