Who is a better poet: Eliot or Yeats?

I like Eliot too

I don’t know if the question is answerable but this is my favorite Yeats poem:

The Lake Isle of Innisfree

I will arise and go now,
And go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there,
Of clay and wattles made;
Nine bean rows will I have there,
A hive for the honey bee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.
And I shall have some peace there,
For peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning
To where the cricket sings;
There midnight’s all a glimmer,
And noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet’s wings.

I will arise and go now,
For always night and day
I hear lake water lapping
With low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway
Or on the pavements gray,
I hear it in the deep heart’s core.

Must I choose? I do like Prufrock.

@pdworkin I guess not. But “Prufrock” is amazing.

@TheIncomparableBenziniBrothers I do like that one. Especially Yeats’ reading of it. Having recently finished his complete works, though, I have to say that I prefer most of his later work.

I prefer Yeats, but to be honest, I’m more familiar with his poetry. It was when reading “The Stand” by Stephen King that I became interested in Yeats. King quotes one Yeats poem a few times in the book and it made an impression on me.

I like Frost. Between those two? Elliot.

Yeats touches my soul.

It is like comparing the music of Mozart and Beethoven. Why waste your energy? (Auden would be Brahms, Frost, Schubert).

I worked for a man for several years who had been one of Auden’s, uh, companions. As a result I handled a good deal of Audenania(?) including love letters and poems.

I prefer Eliot. I led a seminar in my English class on Eliot. Love a lot of his work, especially “The Waste Land” and the one that inspired Cats.

I also like Auden. Had one of his poems on my wis.dm profile (“I Cannot Grow”).

Audenarcana? Speaking of cats, I love this poem written for his cat, who was buried off the Isle of Ischain.

IN MEMORIAM, L K A 1950–1952

At peace under this mandarin sleep, Lucina,
Blue-eyed Queen of white cats: for you the Ischian wave shall weep,
When we who now miss you are American dust, and steep
Epomeo in peace and war augustly a grave-watch keep.
W H Auden

It is hard to choose, but I have to say Eliot.

A pair of ragged claws
Scuttling across the floors of silent seas,
its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born.

@ratboy: That pastiche is a very bad idea…^^

And these last lines from Yeat’s A Cradle Song.

I sigh that kiss you,
For I must own
That I shall miss you
When you have grown.

William Butler Yeats
:

Oh no. Wrong again @gailcalled. The idea is brilliant, but the execution was entirely botched.

Eliot.

He hit the high water mark with The Waste Land. After it came out in 1922, western poetry was effectively dead- no one could ever aspire to those heights.

Then again,Yeats’ Sailing to Byzantium came out six years later, after poetry was dead, and proved that it was still alive.

I’m gonna go with Eliot though.

Eliot, of course.

Prufrock is one of the most amazing pieces of poetry I’ve ever read.

And Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats (the work @DominicX mentioned that is the inspiration for ALW’s CATS!) is something I grew up with. Edward Gorey + TS Eliot = winwinwin, as far as I’m concerned.

(Although Yeats’ The Second Coming is terrifying, if you read it correctly.)

@ratboy: To be or not to be Romeo
Romeo, wherefore are thou Romeo?
The course of true love never did run smooth,
But love is blind, and lovers cannot see

Collage is best left to visual artists.

@gailcalled: Thank you. I was moved to tears by the lovely poem. Is it original?

@gailcalled I think your efforts are inspiring!

@gailcalled You’re correct, to an extent, about the Mozart vs. Beethoven thing. I agree that they’re pretty different. Men of different eras, to be sure. But they did have many aspects in common, and it is difficult for me to say that they are completely incomparable.

@pdworkin Auden taught at my school, actually. He was one of our lecturers on English Literature for a few years. We have quite a lovely supply of his writings in our rare book room, I think.

So far, I think Eliot’s winning, but just by a hair. I still prefer Hopkins to both, but Eliot above Yeats. Four Quartets is one of my absolute favorites.

Shaun Ryder of the Happy Mondays

Tony Wilson: “Can I have it in writing?”
God: “It is already written in the sinews of history and the hearts of men.”

neither poetry is over rated

@ratboy; One dozen hand-rolled and monogrammed handkerchiefs on their way.

@MissAusten: Copy and paste can make anyone an ersatz artist, but thank you.

@growler; I guess that’s what comp. lit is. My son got a Master’s in it, studying French, English and classical Greek literature. Compare and contrast Frost’s The Ovenbird to Hopkins’ “http://www.online-literature.com/henry_james/beast_in_jungle/ The Wind Hover.”:

Both Auden and Frost said privately that they were primarily interested in form and meter; content was secondary. Hopkins had different subject matter but he too was fascinated by spring rhythm. Great poetry, like great classical music, can be revisited and re-examined. One can always find new and interesting things to think about and to hear.

Check out what Frost does metrically to “Loud,” at the beginning of line two.

@gailcalled Thanks! I love a good discussion, and good poetry. My current focus in Eliot and Yeats, with a dash of H.D. and Stevens, though I would love to add some Hopkins. Alas, it is not to be so – my curriculum is dictated to me.

I will work on that compare and contrast for you, though…

@growler; I gave the link for Henry James’ novella, “The Beast in the Jungle” instead of that for The Windhover.. Sorry, and Hopkins loved sprung and not spring rhythm.

@gailcalled Indeed you did, on both counts. Although I’m sure Hopkins would have appreciated rhythm in the spring just as much as in any other season, he preferred it sprung regardless.

@growler: The Henry James story is an interesting one, when you have some free time.

Who is H.D.? I’m thinking but to no avail. Thoreau?

@gailcalled H.D.‘s full name was Hilda Doolittle, a compatriot of Ezra Pound and T.S. Eliot. She’s probably most famous for Trilogy, a book-length poem inspired by fragments of classical manuscripts. H.D. was also an Imagist, famously dubbed by Pound, “H.D., Imagiste.”

@growler: Thanks. Trilogy, a book-length poem inspired by fragments of classical manuscripts.

Do people actually read this or just pretend to have plowed through it?

@gailcalled Ummmmm…depends on the reader. Let’s just say that when I read it last semester my understanding of it was less than thorough. This semester I get to try again…

@growler : Such a piece of good luck.