Titlebook: W. B. Yeats, 1865–1939; Joseph Hone Book 1962Latest edition Anne Yeats and Michael B. Yeats 1962 civil war.death.drama.mysticism.play.poli

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The Abbey Theatre,disposal. In a formal letter she explained that her gift was due to her great sympathy with Yeats’ artistic and dramatic aims, as publicly explained by him on various occasions. “I can only afford“, she wrote, “to make a very little theatre, and it must be quite simple, you all must do the rest to m

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Plays and Controversies, sympathy, and every time he retells it, with fresh exaggerations and additions, he wins the sympathy of somebody or other, for it is the countryman’s habit to be against the law. The countryman thinks the greater the crime the greater the provocation must have been. The young man himself, under the

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Meditations in Time of Civil War,gress which was held in Paris during January 1922. To this he went and spoke on the work of the Abbey, on Synge and on the poets of 1916. Trinity College (which had thrown in its lot with the “Treaty” party) added a testimonial, and during the year he received a welcome academic distinction when the

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,Variety (1910–12),w Jameson and other Dublin friends who wished to show their appreciation of a wonderful personality and their sense of what art in Ireland owed to the old painter, he had chosen to cross the Atlantic with his daughter Lily, who was giving an exhibition of her Dun Emer embroideries in New York, rathe

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A Sixty-Year-Old Smiling Public Man,e to his signally remarkable appearance. Visiting him one evening in his aristocratic eighteenth-century house, Mlle Simone Téry, the gifted French journalist, was impressed by his style and care in dress. Twenty years before, Yeats had been tall and thin, and George Moore’s wicked tongue then compa

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Wheels and Butterflies, trees blurring their outline as though with a soft mist; houses mirrored in an almost motionless sea; a verandahed gable a couple of miles away bringing to mind some Chinese painting. Rapallo’s thin line of broken mother-of-pearl along the water’s edge. The little town described in the Ode on a Gre

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Riversdale,he midst of scenes truly pleasing to the eye of contemplation—farms and winding streams and old demesnes. The previous tenant of his small neat house, some good garden-lover, had planned and nursed and brought to perfection the four acres upon which it stood. Nothing was missing from the miniature e

Institution