Corpus of Electronic Texts Edition
Background details and bibliographic information
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: 485 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: E910001-046
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 The Mask in , Ed. William Butler Yeats Responsibilities and other Poems. The Macmillan Company, New York, (1916) page 105
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 individual 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: E910001-046
The Mask: Author: William Butler Yeats
- 'Put off that mask of burning gold
With emerald eyes.'
'O no, my dear, you make so bold
To find if hearts be wild and wise,
And yet not cold.'
- 'I would but find what's there to find,
Love or deceit.'
'It was the mask engaged your mind,
And after set your heart to beat,
Not what's behind.'
- 'But lest you are my enemy,
I must enquire.'
'O no, my dear, let all that be,
What matter, so there is but fire
In you, in me?'