Showing posts with label yeats. Show all posts
Showing posts with label yeats. Show all posts

Wednesday, 26 October 2016

Yeats and The Golden Dawn

Rose Cross of W.B. Yeats, on display in Dublin.  Photo copyright: National Library of Ireland.:
Rose Cross of W.B. Yeats

photo of the elemental Golden Dawn tools of W. B. Yeats




pages from Yeats' own esoteric writings

Golden Dawn associated items belonging to Yeats, including elemental weapons


Earth Pantacle of W.B. Yeats, on display in Dublin.

Elemental "Air" dagger of either W. B. Yeats or his uncle
(National Library of Ireland)

.:.

His writing abounding in the esoteric and mystic, it is no surprise that Yeats himself held a lifelong interest in the occult. But, unlike others he was not content to merely be a bystander, and was actively involved in various occult orders during his lifetime, notably with The Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn, infamous for links with Crowley (with whom he was to clash). In Ireland he became deeply involved with Theosophy, then in 1890, he joined the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn, taking the magical motto "Demon Est Deus Inversus" - (DEDI).

Yeats was fascinated by the clandestine and otherworldly - much of his work centering on explorations of his native Ireland, mining folkloric and mythical tales from inhabitants, many of which can be read in The Celtic Twilight. His poetry and prose center around mysticism, The Secret Rose, a collection of short stories explore these themes using central characters to comment on mystic themes, and along with his wife he was involved in the spiritualist movement.

"I believe in the practice and philosophy of what we have agreed to call magic, and what I must call the evocation of spirits, though I do not know what they are, in the power of creating magic illusions, in the visions of truth in the depths of the minds when the eyes are closed"

.:.

Tuesday, 25 October 2016

I know of the leafy paths that the witches take...

"I know of the leafy paths that the witches take,
Who come with their crowns of pearl and their spindles of wool,
And their secret smile, out of the depths of the lake;
And of apple islands where the Danaan kind
Wind and unwind their dances when the light grows cool
On the island lawns, their feet where the pale foam gleams;
No boughs have withered because of the wintry wind,
The boughs have withered because I have told them my dreams"

from The Withering of the Boughs // In the Seven Woods by William Butler Yeats