Easter 1916 by W B Yeats | Malayalam Summary | Vidya Education #easter1916 #wbyeats #vidyaeducation

Our Whatsapp Number : 7907348425 Premium Vidya English Literature Includes: Complete Explanation Videos in Malayalam Quality Vidya PDF Notes Personal Mentorship 100 Rupees - 1 Month Membership 500 Rupees - 6 Months Membership Our Patreon Channel Link https://www.patreon.com/vidyaeducatio... Our Telegram Channel for Conversations, Suggestions and Feedback https://t.me/vidyaenglishforum or search ' Vidya Education English Forum' in Telegram Search Bar Our Facebook Page   / vidyaeducationkerala   Our Instagram https://instagram.com/vidya_education... Easter, 1916 BY WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS I have met them at close of day    Coming with vivid faces From counter or desk among grey    Eighteenth-century houses. I have passed with a nod of the head    Or polite meaningless words,    Or have lingered awhile and said    Polite meaningless words, And thought before I had done    Of a mocking tale or a gibe    To please a companion Around the fire at the club,    Being certain that they and I    But lived where motley is worn:    All changed, changed utterly:    A terrible beauty is born. That woman's days were spent    In ignorant good-will, Her nights in argument Until her voice grew shrill. What voice more sweet than hers    When, young and beautiful,    She rode to harriers? This man had kept a school    And rode our wingèd horse;    This other his helper and friend    Was coming into his force; He might have won fame in the end,    So sensitive his nature seemed,    So daring and sweet his thought. This other man I had dreamed A drunken, vainglorious lout. He had done most bitter wrong To some who are near my heart,    Yet I number him in the song; He, too, has resigned his part In the casual comedy; He, too, has been changed in his turn,    Transformed utterly: A terrible beauty is born. Hearts with one purpose alone    Through summer and winter seem    Enchanted to a stone To trouble the living stream. The horse that comes from the road,    The rider, the birds that range    From cloud to tumbling cloud,    Minute by minute they change;    A shadow of cloud on the stream    Changes minute by minute;    A horse-hoof slides on the brim,    And a horse plashes within it;    The long-legged moor-hens dive,    And hens to moor-cocks call;    Minute by minute they live:    The stone's in the midst of all. Too long a sacrifice Can make a stone of the heart.    O when may it suffice? That is Heaven's part, our part    To murmur name upon name,    As a mother names her child    When sleep at last has come    On limbs that had run wild.    What is it but nightfall? No, no, not night but death;    Was it needless death after all? For England may keep faith    For all that is done and said.    We know their dream; enough To know they dreamed and are dead;    And what if excess of love    Bewildered them till they died?    I write it out in a verse— MacDonagh and MacBride    And Connolly and Pearse Now and in time to be, Wherever green is worn, Are changed, changed utterly:    A terrible beauty is born.