Poem by William Butler Yeats

To a Young Beauty

Dear fellow-artist, why so free
With every sort of company,
With every Jack and Jill?
Choose your companions from the best;
Who draws a bucket with the rest
Soon topples down the hill.

You may, that mirror for a school,
Be passionate, not bountiful
As common beauties may,
Who were not born to keep in trim
With old Ezekiel's cherubim
But those of Beaujolet.

I know what wages beauty gives,
How hard a life her servant lives,
Yet praise the winters gone;
There is not a fool can call me friend,
And I may dine at journey's end
With Landor and with Donne.

1. To a Poet, Who Would Have Me Praise Certain Bad Poets, Imitators of His and Mine
2. Upon a House Shaken by the Land Agitation
3. The Collar-Bone of a Hare
4. The Hero, The Girl, and The Fool
5. Owen Ahern and His Dancers

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