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While I write, we are rehearsing The Well of the Saints, and are painting for it decorative scenery, mountains in one or two flat colours and without detail, ash trees and red salleys with something of recurring pattern in their woven boughs. For though the people of the play use no phrase they could not use in daily life, we know that we are seeking to express what no eye has ever seen.

Abbey Theatre,

January 27, 1905.

LIONEL JOHNSON

Contemporary Irish poets believe in a spiritual life, invisible and troubling, and express this belief in their poetry. Contemporary English poets are interested in the glory of the world, like Mr. Rudyard Kipling; or in the order of the world, like Mr. William Watson; or in the passion of the world, like Mr. John Davidson; or in the pleasure of the world, like Mr. Arthur Symons. Mr. Francis Thompson, who has fallen under the shadow of Mr. Coventry Patmore, the poet of an older time and in protest against that time, is alone preoccupied with a spiritual life; and even he, except at rare moments, has less living fervour of belief than pleasure in the gleaming and scented and coloured symbols that are the footsteps where the belief of others has trodden. Ireland, upon the other hand, is creating in English a poetry as full of spiritual ardour as the poetry that praised in Gaelic The Country of the Two Mists, and The Country of the Young, and The Country of the Living Heart.

‘A.E.’ has written an ecstatic pantheistic poetry which reveals in all things a kind of scented flame consuming them from within. Miss Hopper, an unequal writer, whose best verses are delicate and distinguished, has no clear vision of spiritual things, but makes material things as frail and fragile as if they were but smouldering leaves, that we stirred in some mid-world of dreams, as ’the gossips’ in her poem ’stir their lives’ red ashes.’ Mrs. Hinkson, uninteresting at her worst, as only uncritical and unspeculative writers are uninteresting, has sometimes expressed an impassioned and instinctive Catholicism in poems that are, as I believe, as perfect as they are beautiful, while Mr. Lionel Johnson has in his poetry completed the trinity of the spiritual virtues by adding Stoicism to Ecstasy and Asceticism. He has renounced the world and built up a twilight world instead, where all the colours are like the colours in the rainbow that is cast by the moon, and all the people as far from modern tumults as the people upon fading and dropping tapestries. He has so little interest in our pains and pleasures, and is so wrapped up in his own world, that one comes from his books wearied and exalted, as though one had posed for some noble action in a strange tableau vivant that cast its painful stillness upon the mind instead of the body. He might have cried with Axel, ‘As for living, our servants will do that for us.’ As Axel chose to die, he has chosen to live among his books and between two memories – the religious tradition of the Church of Rome and the political tradition of Ireland. From these he gazes upon the future, and whether he write of Sertorius or of Lucretius, or of Parnell or of ‘Ireland’s dead,’ or of ’98, or of St. Columba or of Leo XIII., it is always with the same cold or scornful ecstasy. He has made a world full of altar lights and golden vestures, and murmured Latin and incense clouds, and autumn winds and dead leaves, where one wanders remembering martyrdoms and courtesies that the world has forgotten.

His ecstasy is the ecstasy of combat, not of submission to the Divine will; and even when he remembers that ‘the old Saints prevail,’ he sees the ‘one ancient Priest’ who alone offers the Sacrifice, and remembers the loneliness of the Saints. Had he not this ecstasy of combat, he would be the poet of those peaceful and unhappy souls, who, in the symbolism of a living Irish visionary, are compelled to inhabit when they die a shadowy island Paradise in the West, where the moon always shines, and a mist is always on the face of the moon, and a music of many sighs is always in the air, because they renounced the joy of the world without accepting the joy of God.

1899.

THE PATHWAY

Most of us who are writing books in Ireland to-day have some kind of a spiritual philosophy; and some among us when we look backward upon our lives see that the coming of a young Brahmin into Ireland helped to give our vague thoughts a shape. When we were schoolboys we used to discuss whatever we could find to read of mystical philosophy and to pass crystals over each others’ hands and eyes and to fancy that we could feel a breath flowing from them as people did in a certain German book; and one day somebody told us he had met a Brahmin in London who knew more of these things than any book. With a courage which I still admire, we wrote and asked him to come and teach us, and he came with a little bag in his hand and Marius the Epicurean in his pocket, and stayed with one of us, who gave him a plate of rice and an apple every day at two o’clock; and for a week and all day long he unfolded what seemed to be all wisdom. He sat there beautiful, as only an Eastern is beautiful, making little gestures with his delicate hands, and to him alone among all the talkers I have heard, the delight of ordered words seemed nothing, and all thought a flight into the heart of truth.

We brought him, on the evening of his coming, to a certain club which still discusses everything with that leisure which is the compensation of unsuccessful countries; and there he overthrew or awed into silence whatever metaphysics the town had. And next day, when we would have complimented him, he was remorseful and melancholy, for was it not ‘intellectual lust’? And sometimes he would go back over something he had said and explain to us that his argument had been a fallacy, and apologise as though he had offended against good manners. And once, when we questioned him of some event, he told us what he seemed to remember, but asked us not to give much weight to his memory, for he had found that he observed carelessly. He said, ‘We Easterns are taught to state a principle carefully, but we are not taught to observe and to remember and to describe a fact. Our sense of what truthfulness is is quite different from yours.’ His principles were a part of his being, while our facts, though he was too polite to say it, were doubtless a part of that bodily life, which is, as he believed, an error. He certainly did hold that we lived too much to understand the truth or to live long, for he remembered that his father, who had been the first of his family for two thousand years to leave his native village, had repeated over and over upon his deathbed, ‘The West is dying because of its restlessness.’ Once when he had spoken of some Englishman who had gone down the crater of Vesuvius, some listener adventured: ‘We like men who do that kind of thing, because a man should not think too much of his life,’ but was answered solidly, ‘You do not think little of your lives, but you think so much of your lives that you would enjoy them everywhere, even in the crater of Vesuvius.’ Somebody asked him if we should pray, but even prayer was too full of hope, of desire, of life, to have any part in that acquiescence that was his beginning of wisdom, and he answered that one should say, before sleeping: ‘I have lived many lives. I have been a slave and a prince. Many a beloved has sat upon my knees, and I have sat upon the knees of many a beloved. Everything that has been shall be again.’ Beautiful words, that I spoilt once by turning them into clumsy verse.

Nearly all that we call education was to him but a means to bring us under the despotism of life; and I remember the bewilderment of a schoolmaster who asked about the education of children and was told to ‘teach them fairy tales, and that they did not possess even their own bodies.’ I think he would not have taught anybody anything that had to be written in prose, for he said, very seriously, ‘I have thought much about it, and I have never been able to discover any reason why prose should exist.’ I think he would not have trained anybody in anything but in the arts and in philosophy, which sweeps the pathway before them, for he certainly thought, as William Blake did, that the ‘imagination is the man himself,’ and can, if it be strong enough, work every miracle. A man had come to him in London, and had said, ‘My wife believes that you have the wisdom of the East and can cure her neuralgia, from which she has suffered for years.’ He had answered: ‘Are you certain that she believes that? because, if you are, I can cure her.’ He had gone to her and made a circle round her and recited a poem in Sanscrit, and she had never had neuralgia since. He recited the poem to us, and was very disappointed because we did not know by the sound that it was a description of the spring. Not only did he think that the imaginative arts were the only things that were quite sinless, but he spent more than half a day proving, by many subtle and elaborate arguments, that ‘art for art’s sake’ was the only sinless doctrine, for any other would hide the shadow of the world as it exists in the mind of God by shadows of the accidents and illusions of life, and was but Sadducean blasphemy. Religion existed also for its own sake; and every soul quivered between two emotions, the desire to possess things, to make them a portion of its egotism, and a delight in just and beautiful things for their own sake – and all religions were a doctrinal or symbolical crying aloud of this delight. He would not give his own belief a name for fear he might seem to admit that there could be religion that expressed another delight, and if one urged him too impetuously, he would look embarrassed and say, ‘This body is a Brahmin.’ All other parts of religion were unimportant, for even our desire of immortality was no better than our other desires. Before I understood him, I asked what he would answer to one who began the discussion by denying the immortality of the soul, for the accident of a discussion with religious people had set him grafting upon this stock, and he said, ‘I would say to him, What has that to do with you?’

I remember these phrases and these little fragments of argument quite clearly, for their charm and their unexpectedness has made them cling to the memory; but when I try to remember his philosophy as a whole, I cannot part it from what I myself have built about it, or have gathered in the great ruined house of ‘the prophetic books’ of William Blake; but I am certain that he taught us by what seemed an invincible logic that those who die, in so far as they have imagined beauty or justice, are made a part of beauty or justice, and move through the minds of living men, as Shelley believed; and that mind overshadows mind even among the living, and by pathways that lie beyond the senses; and that he measured labour by this measure, and put the hermit above all other labourers, because, being the most silent and the most hidden, he lived nearer to the Eternal Powers, and showed their mastery of the world. Alcibiades fled from Socrates lest he might do nothing but listen to him all life long, and I am certain that we, seeking as youth will for some unknown deed and thought, all dreamed that but to listen to this man who threw the enchantment of power about silent and gentle things, and at last to think as he did, was the one thing worth doing and thinking; and that all action and all words that lead to action were a little vulgar, a little trivial. Ah, how many years it has taken me to awake out of that dream!

1900-1908.

A BIBLIOGRAPHY OF THE WRITINGS OF WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS BY ALLAN WADE

NOTE

I began to make this bibliography a good many years ago, putting into an old note-book a list of all the writings of Mr. Yeats that I knew, and adding others from time to time, as chance led me to find them in newspapers or periodicals. I had no thought in doing this but my own pleasure, and it is with a kind of wonder that I see my notes taking the form of a book or part of a book at Mr. Bullen’s beautiful Shakespeare Head Press.

I do not think the arrangement of the bibliography needs any explanation. I have not found it possible always to identify the first appearance of poems and essays, particularly in the earlier collections; nor have I thought it necessary to include a reference to every letter written by Mr. Yeats to the Press, since many of these have dealt merely with small points of fact in this or that controversy of the moment. But otherwise I have tried to make the work as complete as possible, and have given many details to serve as guides to those who would study the path along which beauty has come into the world. I have watched the roses blossoming in the garden, though I may not know the secret of their growth.

My thanks for help and suggestions are due to Mr. Yeats himself and to Mr. A. H. Bullen, Mrs. Tynan Hinkson, Miss A. E. F. Horniman, Mr. John Masefield and Mr. T. W. Rolleston. The details of the American editions of Mr. Yeats’s books have been kindly supplied by Mr. John Quinn of New York.

ALLAN WADE.

June, 1908.

Accursed who brings to light of day
The writings I have cast away!
But blessed he that stirs them not
And lets the kind worm take the lot!

– W.B.Y.

PART I. – ORIGINAL WORKS

1886

The whole enclosed in decorated border.

8vo, pp. ii and 12. Light brown paper covers.

There is no title-page, the above description being taken from the front cover.

Mosada originally appeared in The Dublin University Review, June, 1886.

1889

Fcap. 8vo, pp. vi and 156. Cloth

The Wanderings of Oisin.

Time and the Witch Vivien.

The Stolen Child. Originally appeared in The Irish Monthly, December, 1886.

Girl’s Song.

Ephemera. An Autumn Idyll.

An Indian Song. Originally appeared in The Dublin University Review, December, 1886.

Kanva, the Indian, on God. Originally appeared, under the title From the Book of Kauri the Indian. Section V., On the Nature of God, in The Dublin University Review, October, 1886.

Kanva on Himself.

Jealousy.

Song of the Last Arcadian. Originally appeared, under the title An Epilogue. To ‘The Island of Statues’ and ‘The Seeker,’ in The Dublin University Review, October, 1885.

King Goll. (Third Century.) Originally appeared, under the title King Goll. An Irish Legend, in The Leisure Hour, September, 1887.

The Meditation of the Old Fisherman. Originally appeared in The Irish Monthly, October, 1886.

The Ballad of Moll Magee.

The Phantom Ship.

A Lover’s Quarrel among the Fairies.

Mosada. Originally appeared in The Dublin University Review, June, 1886.

How Ferencz Renyi kept Silent. Originally appeared in The Boston Pilot.

The Fairy Doctor. Originally appeared in The Irish Fireside, September 10, 1887.

Falling of the Leaves.

Miserrimus. Originally appeared in The Dublin University Review, October, 1886.

The Priest and the Fairy.

The Fairy Pedant. Originally appeared in The Irish Monthly, March, 1887.

She who dwelt among the Sycamores. A Fancy. Originally appeared in The Irish Monthly, September, 1887.

On Mr. Nettleship’s Picture at the Royal Hibernian Academy, 1885. Originally appeared in The Dublin University Review, April, 1886.

A Legend.

An Old Song re-sung.

Street Dancers. This poem appeared in The Leisure Hour, March, 1890.

To an Isle in the Water.

Quatrains and Aphorisms. The first quatrain originally appeared in The Dublin University Review, February, 1886, under the title Life, and the second and sixth in January, 1886, under the title In a Drawing Room.

The Seeker. Originally appeared, under the title The Seeker. A Dramatic Poem. In Two Scenes, in The Dublin University Review, September, 1885.

Island of Statues. Originally appeared, under the title The Island of Statues. An Arcadian Faery Tale. In Two Acts, in The Dublin University Review, April, May, June and July, 1885.

1891

24mo, pp. iv and 196. The Pseudonym Library, issued in yellow paper and in light brown linen. No. 10.

Ganconagh’s Apology.

John Sherman.

Dhoya.

1892

12mo, pp. 144. Paper boards with vellum back. Published in the Cameo Series. Frontispiece by J. T. Nettleship.

Preface.

The Countess Cathleen.

To the Rose upon the Rood of Time.

Fergus and the Druid. Originally appeared in The National Observer, May 21, 1891.

The Rose of the World. Originally appeared, under the title Rosa Mundi, in The National Observer, January 2, 1892.

The Peace of the Rose. Originally appeared in The National Observer, February 13, 1892.

The Death of Cuchullin. Originally appeared in United Ireland, June 11, 1892.

The White Birds. Originally appeared in The National Observer, May 7, 1892.

Father Gilligan. Originally appeared, under the title Father Gilligan. (A Legend told by the People of Castleisland, Kerry.), in The Scots Observer, July 5, 1890.

Father O’Hart. Appeared, under the title The Priest of Coloony in Fairy and Folk Tales of the Irish Peasantry, 1888.

When You are Old.

The Sorrow of Love.

The Ballad of the Old Foxhunter. Originally appeared in East and West, November, 1889.

A Fairy Song. Originally appeared in The National Observer, September 12, 1891.

The Pity of Love.

The Lake Isle of Innisfree. Originally appeared in The National Observer, December 13, 1890.

A Cradle Song. Originally appeared in The Scots Observer, April 19, 1890.

The Man who Dreamed of Fairy Land. Originally appeared, under the title A Man who dreamed of Fairyland, in The National Observer, February 7, 1891.

Dedication of Irish Tales. Originally appeared in Representative Irish Tales, 1890.

The Lamentation of the Old Pensioner. Originally appeared in The Scots Observer, November 15, 1890.

When You are Sad.

The Two Trees.

They went forth to the Battle, but they always Fell.

An Epitaph. Originally appeared in The National Observer, December 12, 1891.

Apologia Addressed to Ireland in the Coming Days.

Notes.

1893

18mo, pp. xii and 212. Cloth

Poem: Time drops in decay. Originally appeared, under the title The Moods, in The Bookman, Aug., 1893.

The Host. Originally appeared under the title The Faery Host, in The National Observer, October 7, 1893.

This Book.

A Teller of Tales. A part of this essay originally appeared in the introduction to Fairy and Folk Tales of the Irish Peasantry, 1888.

Belief and Unbelief. A part of this essay originally appeared in an essay Irish Fairies in The Leisure Hour, October, 1890.

A Visionary. Originally appeared, under the title An Irish Visionary, in The National Observer, October 3, 1891.

Village Ghosts. Originally appeared in The Scots Observer, May 11, 1889.

A Knight of the Sheep. Originally appeared, under the title An Impression, in The Speaker, October 21, 1893.

The Sorcerers.

The Last Gleeman. Originally appeared in The National Observer, May 6, 1893.

Regina, Regina Pigmeorum, Veni.

Kidnappers. Originally appeared in The Scots Observer, June 15, 1889.

The Untiring Ones.

The Man and his Boots.

A Coward.

The Three O’Byrnes and the Evil Faeries. Originally appeared as part of an essay Irish Fairies in The Leisure Hour, October, 1890.

Drumcliff and Rosses. Originally appeared, under the title Columkille and Rosses, in The Scots Observer, October 5, 1889.

The Thick Skull of the Fortunate.

The Religion of a Sailor.

Concerning the Nearness Together of Heaven, Earth and Purgatory.

The Eaters of Precious Stones.

Our Lady of the Hills. Originally appeared in The Speaker, November 11, 1893.

The Golden Age.

A Remonstrance with Scotsmen for having soured the disposition of their Ghosts and Faeries. Originally appeared under the title Scots and Irish Fairies in The Scots Observer, March 2, 1889.

The Four Winds of Desire.

Into the Twilight. Originally appeared, under the title The Celtic Twilight in The National Observer, July 29, 1893.

1894

The left-hand side of the title-page bears Aubrey Beardsley’s design for the Avenue Theatre poster, much reduced in size and printed in black.

Sm. 4to, pp. 48. Pink paper cover, bearing reprint of the title-page.

1895

Poems | By W. B. Yeats | London: Published by T. Fisher Unwin. | No. XI: Paternoster Buildings: MDCCCXCV [The whole forms part of a design by H.G.F.]

Cr. 8vo, pp. xii and 288. Cloth

Preface. (Dated Sligo, March 24, 1895.)

To Some I have talked with by the fire. Originally appeared in The Bookman, May, 1895.

The Wanderings of Usheen. [F]

The Countess Cathleen. [G]

The Land of Heart’s Desire.

The Rose:

To the Rose upon the Rood of Time. [G]

Fergus and the Druid. [G]

The Death of Cuhoolin. [G]

The Rose of the World. [G]

The Rose of Peace. [G]

The Rose of Battle. [G]

A Faery Song. [G]

The Lake Isle of Innisfree. [G]

A Cradle Song. [G]

The Pity of Love. [G]

The Sorrow of Love. [G]

When You are Old. [G]

The White Birds. [G]

A Dream of Death. [G]

A Dream of a Blessed Spirit. Originally appeared, under the title Kathleen, in The National Observer, October 31, 1891.

The Man who Dreamed of Faeryland. [G]

The Dedication to a Book of Stories selected from the Irish Novelists. [G]

The Lamentation of the Old Pensioner. [G]

The Ballad of Father Gilligan. [G]

The Two Trees. [G]

To Ireland in the Coming Times. [G]

Crossways:

The Song of the Happy Shepherd. [F]

The Sad Shepherd. [F]

The Cloak, the Boat, and the Shoes. [F] (A re-writing of the first lines of Island of Statues.)

Anashuya and Vijaya. [F]

The Indian upon God. [F]

The Indian to his Love. [F]

The Falling of the Leaves. [F]

Ephemera. [F]

The Madness of King Goll. [F]

The Stolen Child. [F]

To an Isle in the Water. [F]

Down by the Salley Gardens. [F]

The Meditation of the Old Fisherman. [F]

The Ballad of Father O’Hart. [G]

The Ballad of Moll Magee. [F]

The Ballad of the Foxhunter. [G]

Glossary.

1899. Second Edition, revised.

This edition has a portrait of the author by J. B. Yeats facing title-page, the preface is re-written, and the contents re-arranged thus: —

Preface. (Dated February 24, 1899.)

To Some I have talked with by the fire.

The Countess Cathleen.

The Rose.

The Land of Heart’s Desire.

Crossways.

The Wanderings of Oisin.

Glossary.

1901. Third Edition, revised.

This edition has a new preface, dated January, 1901, and the note in the glossary on The Countess Cathleen is much enlarged.

1897

Cr. 8vo, pp. xii and 268. Cloth

Dedication to ‘A.E.’

To the Secret Rose. Originally appeared, under the title O’Sullivan Rua to the Secret Rose, in The Savoy, September, 1896.

The Binding of the Hair. Originally appeared in The Savoy, January, 1896.

The Wisdom of the King. Originally appeared, under the title Wisdom, in The New Review, Sept., 1895.

Where there is Nothing, there is God. Originally appeared in The Sketch, October 21, 1896.

The Crucifixion of the Outcast. Originally appeared, under the title A Crucifixion, in The National Observer, March 24, 1894.

Out of the Rose. Originally appeared in The National Observer, May 27, 1893.

The Curse of the Fires and of the Shadows. Originally appeared in The National Observer, Aug. 5, 1893.

The Heart of the Spring. Originally appeared in The National Observer, April 15, 1893.

Of Costello the Proud, of Oona the Daughter of Dermott and of the Bitter Tongue. Originally appeared, under the title Costello the Proud, Oona MacDermott and the Bitter Tongue, in The Pageant, 1896.

The Book of the Great Dhoul and Hanrahan the Red. Originally appeared, under the title The Devil’s Book, in The National Observer, November 26, 1892.

The Twisting of the Rope and Hanrahan the Red. Originally appeared, under the title The Twisting of the Rope, in The National Observer, December 24, 1892.

Kathleen the Daughter of Hoolihan and Hanrahan the Red. Originally appeared, under the title Kathleen-ny-Houlihan, in The National Observer, Aug. 4, 1894.

The Curse of Hanrahan the Red. Originally appeared, under the title The Curse of O’Sullivan the Red upon Old Age, in The National Observer, September 29, 1894.

The Vision of Hanrahan the Red. Originally appeared, under the title The Vision of O’Sullivan the Red, in The New Review, April, 1896.

The Death of Hanrahan the Red. Originally appeared, under the title The Death of O’Sullivan the Red, in The New Review, December, 1896.

The Rose of Shadow. Originally appeared under the title Those Who Live in the Storm, in The Speaker, July 21, 1894.

The Old Men of the Twilight. Originally appeared, under the title St. Patrick and the Pedants, in The Weekly Sun Literary Supplement, December 1, 1895.

Rosa Alchemica. Originally appeared in The Savoy, April, 1896.

Cr. 8vo, pp. 48. Cloth. Portrait by J. B. Yeats facing title-page.

The Tables of the Law. Originally appeared in The Savoy, November, 1896.

The Adoration of the Magi.

One hundred and ten copies printed.

1904. First published edition: —

Royal 16mo, pp. 60 and iv of advertisements. Paper covers. No. 17 of The Vigo Cabinet Series.

Prefatory Note.

The Tables of the Law.

The Adoration of the Magi.

Also an Edition de Luxe, limited.

1899

Cr. 8vo, pp. viii and 108. Cloth

The Hosting of the Sidhe. For original appearance see under title The Host, in The Celtic Twilight, 1893.

The Everlasting Voices. Originally appeared, under the title Everlasting Voices, in The New Review, January, 1896.

The Moods. For original appearance see The Celtic Twilight, 1893.

Aedh tells of the Rose in his Heart. Originally appeared, under the title The Rose in my Heart, in The National Observer, November 12, 1892.

The Host of the Air. Originally appeared, under the title The Stolen Bride, in The Bookman, Nov., 1893.

Breasal the Fisherman. Originally appeared, under the title Bressel the Fisherman, in The Cornish Magazine, December, 1898.

A Cradle Song. Originally appeared as the first of Two Poems concerning Peasant Visionaries, in The Savoy, April, 1896.

Into the Twilight. For original appearance see The Celtic Twilight, 1893.

The Song of Wandering Aengus.

The Song of the Old Mother. Originally appeared in The Bookman, April, 1894.

The Fiddler of Dooney. Originally appeared in The Bookman, December, 1892.

The Heart of the Woman. Originally appeared in the story The Rose of Shadow, in The Secret Rose.

Aedh Laments the Loss of Love. Originally appeared as the second of Aodh to Dectora. Three Songs, in The Dome, May, 1898.

Mongan Laments the Change that has come upon him and his Beloved. Originally appeared, under the title The Desire of Man and of Woman, in The Dome, June, 1897.

Michael Robartes bids his Beloved be at Peace. Originally appeared, under the title The Shadowy Horses, in The Savoy, January, 1896.

Hanrahan reproves the Curlew. Originally appeared, under the title Windlestraws. 1. O’Sullivan Rua to the Curlew, in The Savoy, November, 1896.

Michael Robartes remembers forgotten Beauty. Originally appeared, under the title O’Sullivan Rua to Mary Lavell, in The Savoy, July, 1896.

A Poet to his Beloved. Originally appeared, under the title O’Sullivan the Red to Mary Lavell, in The Senate, March, 1896.

Aedh gives his Beloved certain Rhymes. Originally appeared in the story The Binding of the Hair. See The Secret Rose, 1897.

To my Heart, bidding it have no Fear. Originally appeared, under the title Windlestraws. 11. Out of the Old Days, in The Savoy, November, 1896.

The Cap and Bells. Originally appeared, under the title Cap and Bell, in The National Observer, March 17, 1894.

The Valley of the Black Pig. Originally appeared, as the second of Two Poems concerning Peasant Visionaries, in The Savoy, April, 1896.

Michael Robartes asks Forgiveness because of his many Moods. Originally appeared, under the title The Twilight of Forgiveness, in The Saturday Review, November 2, 1895.

Aedh tells of a Valley full of Lovers. Originally appeared under the title The Valley of Lovers, in The Saturday Review, January 9, 1897.

Aedh tells of the perfect Beauty. Originally appeared, under the title O’Sullivan the Red to Mary Lavell, in The Senate, March, 1896.

Aedh hears the Cry of the Sedge. Originally appeared as the first of Aodh to Dectora. Three Songs, in The Dome, May, 1898.

Aedh thinks of those who have spoken Evil of his Beloved. Originally appeared as the third of Aodh to Dectora. Three Songs, in The Dome, May, 1898.

The Blessed. Originally appeared in The Yellow Book, Volume XIII, April, 1897.

The Secret Rose. For original appearance see under The Secret Rose, 1897.