His feelings for Maude are particularly clear, though distorted, in "No Second Troy:"
Why should I blame her that she filled my days
With misery, or that she would of late
Have taught to ignorant men most violent ways,
Or hurled the little streets upon the great,
Had they but courage equal to desire?
What could have made her peaceful with a mind
That nobleness made simple as a fire,
With beauty like a tightened bow, a kind
That is not natural in an age like this,
Being high and solitary and most stern?
Why, what could she have done, being what she is?
Was there another Troy for her to burn?
Yeats commonly drew upon figures of mythology and legend in his writings, used as comparisons to contemporary people and events taking place. Eden and Biblical references are common in his work, as is Greek mythology ("Leda and the Swan," for example). The idea of Maude Gonne being comparable to Helen of Troy is, of course, flattering exaggeration, but the poet's soul doesn't allow for realistic comparison, it seems.
When not overly caught up in playing the scorned lover, Yeats earned a reputation for Irish patriotism, though it was often dressed up in a mocking fashion. In "September 1913," he openly chastises the self-proclaimed freedom fighters of Ireland (Maude's husband, MacBride, among them), claiming that "romantic Ireland's dead and gone/It's with O'Leary in the grave." Yeats reprimands these men for taking too lightly the sacrifices of better men who have gone before them, recalling their "delirium of the brave."
Yeats changes his tone completely, however, in "Easter, 1916." This poem is about a battle -- more accurately described as a slaughter -- which occurred that particular Easter Sunday. (Note: this event is also immortalized in U2's "Bloody Sunday.") In "Easter, 1916," Yeats apologizes to the men and women who had so often been the brunt "of a mocking tale or a gibe/ To please a companion/Around the fire at a club,/Being certain that they and I/But lived where motley is worn." On this day, which drastically shaped much of Yeats' future writing, many of these people lost their lives. "Easter, 1916" describes Yeats' difference in opinion, before and after their final acts. He makes no secret that these are people he was accustomed to view with distaste, but admits that, in his eyes, "all changed, changed utterly:/A terrible beauty is born."
This line is repeated throughout the poem: "A terrible beauty is born." Even MacBride, who "had done a most bitter wrong/To some who are near my heart...he, too, has been changed in his turn."
Strangely, my personal favorite of Yeats' poems is much lesser known, and covers a much smaller scale of insight and sorrow. Any persons lucky enough to be familiar with the film "Memphis Belle" may perhaps be familiar with the poem I am referencing:
An Irish Airman Foresees His Death
I know that I shall meet my fate
Somewhere among the clouds above;
Those that I fight I do not hate,
Those that I guard I do not love;
My country is Kiltartan Cross,
My countrymen Kiltartan's poor,
No likely end could bring them loss
Or leave them happier than before.
Nor law, nor duty bade me fight,
Nor public men, nor cheering crowds,
A lonely impulse of delight
Drove to this tumult in the clouds;
I balanced all, brought all to mind,
The years to come seemed waste of breath,
A waste of breath the years behind
In balance with this life, this death.
Now, maybe it's a result of being a product of a generation that appears to care nothing for patriotism. Perhaps it's because there has been no great, easily justifiable war for my country in my lifetime -- at least, not one the general population (those my age, in particular) have been able to easily support. It could be that I've known a number of military men, many of whom have seen active combat. Whatever the reason, I am fascinated by the last four lines of this poem. It is difficult, in American society today, to imagine believing in a cause so completely that the sacrifice of your own past and future hardly seems worth mentioning, compared to the common goal. This poem rings with nostalgia for times past, though I'm sure that the world did not seem so simple then as it appears through our modern-day filter of time and history.
And yet, the conclusion of the poem belies the beginning. The entire first stanza attempts to make the point that this soldier does not fight for a specific reason; he stands to gain nothing. He does not hate the enemy any more than he feels loyalty to his allies. His family and friends are not likely to feel the effects of his actions. Why, then, does he risk all to fight?
A lonely impulse of delight...
Is that not a perfect generalization for man's most decisive and rewarding actions? Yes, there are many times (I would go so far as to say the majority of the time) when people act based on logic, the cajoling of others, or specific motives, whether selfish or altruistic. How many of those actions truly define a person, besides being a basic display of obedience? Our impulses, our instinctive, senseless actions...this is what defines the core of our selves: our impulses, and our ability to accept the consequences thereof.
She bid me take life easy, as the grass grows on the wiers;
But I was young and foolish, and now am full of tears.
Not always will our actions lead to joyous endings; indeed, the majority of Yeats' works indicate otherwise. Without suffering, however -- without knowingly making difficult choices and following the very human quality of making mistakes -- there is no development of beauty.
O body swayed to music, O brightening glance,
How can we know the dancer from the dance?
