Inna’s Reviews > Early Twentieth-Century Poetry > Status Update

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dv3QY...

I didn’t begin with askings. I took my job and I stuck; 15
I took the chances they wouldn’t, an’ now they’re calling it luck.

The tree of man was never quiet:
Then 'twas the Roman, now 'tis I.

That is the land of lost content, I see it shining plain, the happy highways where I went and cannot come again.

Down By the Salley Gardens
BY WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS
Down by the salley gardens
my love and I did meet;
She passed the salley gardens
with little snow-white feet.
She bid me take love easy,
as the leaves grow on the tree;
But I, being young and foolish,
with her would not agree.

In a field by the river
my love and I did stand,
And on my leaning shoulder
she laid her snow-white hand.

I am just the same as when

Our days were a joy, and our paths through flowers.

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/aspens/

And it would be the same were no house near.
Over all sorts of weather, men, and times,
Aspens must shake their leaves and men may hear
But need not listen, more than to my rhymes.

Whatever wind blows, while they and I have leaves
We cannot other than an aspen be
That ceaselessly, unreasonably grieves,
Or so men think who like a different tree.

To-day I think
Only with scents, - scents dead leaves yield,
And bracken, and wild carrot's seed,
And the square mustard field;

Odours that rise
When the spade wounds the root of tree,
Rose, currant, raspberry, or goutweed,
Rhubarb or celery;

The smoke's smell, too,
Flowing from where a bonfire burns
The dead, the waste, the dangerous,
And all to sweetness turns.