Corpus of Electronic Texts Edition
Background details and bibliographic information
Against unworthy Praise
Author: William Butler Yeats
Electronic edition compiled and proof-read by Beatrix Färber, Juliette Maffet
Funded by School of History, University College, Cork
1. First draft.
Extent of text: 517 words
CELT: Corpus of Electronic Texts: a project of University College, Cork
College Road, Cork, Irelandhttp://www.ucc.ie/celt (2012)
Distributed by CELT online at University College, Cork, Ireland.
Text ID Number: E910001-040
The works by W. B. Yeats are in the public domain. This electronic text is available with prior consent of the CELT programme for purposes of private or academic research and teaching.
- A bibliography is available online at the official web site of the Nobel Prize. See: http://nobelprize.org/nobel_prizes/literature/laureates/1923/yeats-bibl.html
The edition used in the digital edition
- William Butler Yeats Against unworthy Praise in , Ed. William Butler Yeats Responsibilities and other Poems. The Macmillan Company, New York, (1916) page 9798
CELT: Corpus of Electronic Texts
The whole selection.
Text has been proof-read twice.
The electronic text represents the edited text. Lines (or parts of them) reproduced in italics in the printed edition are tagged hi rend="ital".
The editorial practice of the hard-copy editor has been retained.
div0 =the poem, stanzas are marked lg.
Names of persons (given names), and places are not tagged. Terms for cultural and social roles are not tagged.
Created: By William Butler Yeats (18651939).
Date range: before 1916.
Use of language
Language: [EN] The poem is in English.
Corpus of Electronic Texts Edition: E910001-040
Against unworthy Praise: Author: William Butler Yeats
- O HEART, be at peace, because
Nor knave nor dolt can break
What's not for their applause,
Being for a woman's sake.
Enough if the work has seemed,
So did she your strength renew,
A dream that a lion had dreamed
Till the wilderness cried aloud,
A secret between you two,
Between the proud and the proud.
- What, still you would have their praise!
But here's a haughtier text,
The labyrinth of her days
That her own strangeness perplexed;
And how what her dreaming gave
Earned slander, ingratitude,
From self-same dolt and knave;
Aye, and worse wrong than these,
Yet she, singing upon her road,
Half lion, half child, is at peace.