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  1. William Butler Yeats (13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939) was an Irish poet, dramatist and writer, and one of the foremost figures of 20th-century literature. He was a driving force behind the Irish Literary Revival , and along with Lady Gregory founded the Abbey Theatre , serving as its chief during its early years.

  2. Nor is there singing school but studying. Monuments of its own magnificence; And therefore I have sailed the seas and come. To the holy city of Byzantium. III. O sages standing in God's holy fire. As in the gold mosaic of a wall, Come from the holy fire, perne in a gyre, And be the singing-masters of my soul.

  3. The Second Coming. ‘The Second Coming’ by William Butler Yeats delves into the tumultuous atmosphere of post-World War I Europe through apocalyptic imagery. This iconic poem, penned in 1919, captures the collective anxiety of a world emerging from the First World War and entering the Irish War of Independence.

  4. William Butler Yeats was an Irish poet and playwright, and one of the foremost figures of 20th century literature. A pillar of both the Irish and British literary establishments, in his later years he served as an Irish Senator for two terms. Yeats was a driving force behind the Irish Literary Revival and, along with Lady Gregory, Edward Martyn ...

  5. May 21, 2024 · William Butler Yeats was an Irish poet, dramatist, and prose writer, one of the greatest English-language poets of the 20th century. He received the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1923. Yeats’s father, John Butler Yeats, was a barrister who eventually became a portrait painter. His mother, formerly.

  6. Born in Sandymount, Dublin, Ireland, on June 13, 1865, William Butler Yeats was the son of the well-known Irish painter, John Butler Yeats. He spent his childhood in County Sligo, where his parents were raised, and in London. He returned to Dublin at the age of fifteen to continue his education and to study painting, but quickly discovered that ...

  7. The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out. When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi. Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert. A shape with lion body and the head of a man, A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun, Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it. Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.

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