If a poet interprets a poem of his own he limits its suggestibility.
William Butler YeatsRead
Was it for this the wild geese spread The gray wing upon every tide; For this that all that blood was shed, For this. Edward Fitzgerald died, And Robert Emmet and Wolfe Tone, All that delirium of the brave? Romantic Ireland's dead and gone, It's with O'Leary in the grave.
Interpretation
The quote reflects on the sacrifices made for Ireland and mourns its lost romantic ideals.
This quote expresses deep sorrow for the sacrifices made by those who fought for Irish freedom, questioning if all that bloodshed was worthwhile in the face of what he sees as the death of the romantic vision of Ireland. Yeats laments that the heroic spirit that inspired such sacrifices has faded, now resting in the grave alongside its champions, suggesting a loss of hope and idealism in contemporary Ireland.
In practice
Using this quote during a speech about national identity and the sacrifices made for freedom.
If a poet interprets a poem of his own he limits its suggestibility.
It was my first meeting with a philosophy that confirmed my vague speculations and seemed at once logical and boundless.
But I, being poor, have only my dreams; I have spread my dreams under your feet; Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
How far away the stars seem, and how far is our first kiss, and ah, how old my heart.
For he would be thinking of love Till the stars had run away And the shadows eaten the moon.
Love is created and preserved by intellectual analysis, for we love only that which is unique, and it belongs to contemplation, not to action, for we would not change that which we love.
Complete possession is proved only by giving. All you are unable to give possesses you.
We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal; that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights; that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.
I write for one and only one purpose, to overcome the invincible ignorance of the traduced heart. I wish to speak to and for those who have had enough of the Social Lie, the Economics of Mass Murder, the Sexual Hoax, and the Domestication of Conspicuous Consumption.
Terror cannot be finished by one war.
We don't need legitimacy. We exist. Therefore we are legitimate.
[Emigrants] will bring with them the principles of the governments they leave, imbibed in their early youth; or, if able to throw off, it will be in exchange for an unbounded licentiousness, passing, as is usual, from one extreme to another. It would be a miracle were they to stop precisely at the point of temperate liberty.
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