"Easter, 1916," was written by the Irish poet W.B. Yeats to commemorate the Easter Rising in 1916, in which Irish nationalists led a rebellion to win independence from British rule. The leaders of the Rising were ultimately executed, and Yeats's poem balances critique of the rebellion and its political extremism with admiration for the rebels' dedication and bravery.
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1I have met them at close of day
2Coming with vivid faces
3From counter or desk among grey
4Eighteenth-century houses.
5I have passed with a nod of the head
6Or polite meaningless words,
7Or have lingered awhile and said
8Polite meaningless words,
9And thought before I had done
10Of a mocking tale or a gibe
11To please a companion
12Around the fire at the club,
13Being certain that they and I
14But lived where motley is worn:
15All changed, changed utterly:
16A terrible beauty is born.
17That woman's days were spent
18In ignorant good-will,
19Her nights in argument
20Until her voice grew shrill.
21What voice more sweet than hers
22When, young and beautiful,
23She rode to harriers?
24This man had kept a school
25And rode our wingèd horse;
26This other his helper and friend
27Was coming into his force;
28He might have won fame in the end,
29So sensitive his nature seemed,
30So daring and sweet his thought.
31This other man I had dreamed
32A drunken, vainglorious lout.
33He had done most bitter wrong
34To some who are near my heart,
35Yet I number him in the song;
36He, too, has resigned his part
37In the casual comedy;
38He, too, has been changed in his turn,
39Transformed utterly:
40A terrible beauty is born.
41Hearts with one purpose alone
42Through summer and winter seem
43Enchanted to a stone
44To trouble the living stream.
45The horse that comes from the road,
46The rider, the birds that range
47From cloud to tumbling cloud,
48Minute by minute they change;
49A shadow of cloud on the stream
50Changes minute by minute;
51A horse-hoof slides on the brim,
52And a horse plashes within it;
53The long-legged moor-hens dive,
54And hens to moor-cocks call;
55Minute by minute they live:
56The stone's in the midst of all.
57Too long a sacrifice
58Can make a stone of the heart.
59O when may it suffice?
60That is Heaven's part, our part
61To murmur name upon name,
62As a mother names her child
63When sleep at last has come
64On limbs that had run wild.
65What is it but nightfall?
66No, no, not night but death;
67Was it needless death after all?
68For England may keep faith
69For all that is done and said.
70We know their dream; enough
71To know they dreamed and are dead;
72And what if excess of love
73Bewildered them till they died?
74I write it out in a verse—
75MacDonagh and MacBride
76And Connolly and Pearse
77Now and in time to be,
78Wherever green is worn,
79Are changed, changed utterly:
80A terrible beauty is born.
1I have met them at close of day
2Coming with vivid faces
3From counter or desk among grey
4Eighteenth-century houses.
5I have passed with a nod of the head
6Or polite meaningless words,
7Or have lingered awhile and said
8Polite meaningless words,
9And thought before I had done
10Of a mocking tale or a gibe
11To please a companion
12Around the fire at the club,
13Being certain that they and I
14But lived where motley is worn:
15All changed, changed utterly:
16A terrible beauty is born.
17That woman's days were spent
18In ignorant good-will,
19Her nights in argument
20Until her voice grew shrill.
21What voice more sweet than hers
22When, young and beautiful,
23She rode to harriers?
24This man had kept a school
25And rode our wingèd horse;
26This other his helper and friend
27Was coming into his force;
28He might have won fame in the end,
29So sensitive his nature seemed,
30So daring and sweet his thought.
31This other man I had dreamed
32A drunken, vainglorious lout.
33He had done most bitter wrong
34To some who are near my heart,
35Yet I number him in the song;
36He, too, has resigned his part
37In the casual comedy;
38He, too, has been changed in his turn,
39Transformed utterly:
40A terrible beauty is born.
41Hearts with one purpose alone
42Through summer and winter seem
43Enchanted to a stone
44To trouble the living stream.
45The horse that comes from the road,
46The rider, the birds that range
47From cloud to tumbling cloud,
48Minute by minute they change;
49A shadow of cloud on the stream
50Changes minute by minute;
51A horse-hoof slides on the brim,
52And a horse plashes within it;
53The long-legged moor-hens dive,
54And hens to moor-cocks call;
55Minute by minute they live:
56The stone's in the midst of all.
57Too long a sacrifice
58Can make a stone of the heart.
59O when may it suffice?
60That is Heaven's part, our part
61To murmur name upon name,
62As a mother names her child
63When sleep at last has come
64On limbs that had run wild.
65What is it but nightfall?
66No, no, not night but death;
67Was it needless death after all?
68For England may keep faith
69For all that is done and said.
70We know their dream; enough
71To know they dreamed and are dead;
72And what if excess of love
73Bewildered them till they died?
74I write it out in a verse—
75MacDonagh and MacBride
76And Connolly and Pearse
77Now and in time to be,
78Wherever green is worn,
79Are changed, changed utterly:
80A terrible beauty is born.
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.
Select any word below to get its definition in the context of the poem. The words are listed in the order in which they appear in the poem.
Other Poems on the Easter Rising — A collection of 10 poems written on the occasion of the Easter Rising, all with commentary by Dr. Lucy Collins of University College Dublin.
The Easter Rising — Resources on the Easter Rising from the BBC.
Reading of "Easter, 1916" — A moving reading of "Easter, 1916" by Northern Irish actor Liam Neeson.
Dublin Rising 1916-2016 — A virtual tour of Dublin, narrated by Irish actor Colin Farrell, that overlays the contemporary city with the city as it was in 1916, and provides historical background on the Rising.
W.B. Yeats Biography — An account of W.B. Yeats's life, with a focus on his development as a poet.