Seinfeld

SEINFELD BLOG

Seinfeld DVD Complete Series Box Set

Seinfeld Script Search:

yeats quote by kramer

Author Message
sandra







PostPosted: March 5, 2004 12:18 PM 

trying to find the poem by yeats that kramer quoted to elaine for her birthday. thank you

jeffgorc
Bob Sakamano

Posts: no

Reply: 1



PostPosted: March 5, 2004 5:13 PM 

From: "THE DEAL"

Elaine: (Reading card) Think where man's glory most begins and ends and say my glory was I had such a friend.


Kramer: (To Jerry) Yates.


Elaine: Oh Kramer. (They embrace)

Will Linden
Low-Talker

Posts: 1

Reply: 2



PostPosted: April 24, 2004 11:24 PM 

"The Municipal Gallery Revisited"

Maestro
Cockeyed Optimist

Posts: 537

Reply: 3



PostPosted: August 29, 2004 4:04 PM 

Does anyone know in wich book it is ? Confused

joan
Low-Talker

Posts: 1

Reply: 4



PostPosted: July 19, 2005 10:21 AM 

I just saw the episode re the Yeats poem last nite and wanted the exact poem for a friend's b-day card & I finally found the correct place to look & found a posting from 2004 asking the same question. Thanks!!!!

Simon
Bob Sakamano

Posts: no

Reply: 5



PostPosted: July 19, 2005 12:09 PM 

Are you sure the poem didn't say :

To a wonderful girl, a great pal, and more !

Simon Black
Low-Talker

Posts: 3

Reply: 6



PostPosted: September 20, 2005 2:09 PM 

THE MUNICIPAL GALLERY REVISITED
I
Around me the images of thirty years;
An ambush; pilgrims at the water-side;
Casement upon trial, half hidden by the bars,
Guarded; Griffith staring in hysterical pride;
Kevin O'Higgins' countenance that wears
A gentle questioning look that cannot hide
A soul incapable of remorse or rest;
A revolutionary soldier kneeling to be blessed.

II
An Abbot or Archbishop with an upraised hand
Blessing the Tricolour. "This is not," I say,
"The dead Ireland of my youth, but an Ireland
The poets have imagined, terrible and gay."
Before a woman's portrait suddenly I stand,
Beautiful and gentle in her Venetian way.
I met her all but fifty years ago
For twenty minutes in some studio.

III
Heart-smitten with emotion I sink down,
My heart recovering with covered eyes;
Wherever I had looked I had looked upon
My permanent or impermanent images:
Augusta Gregory's son; her sister's son,
Hugh Lane, "onlie begetter" of all these;
Hazel Lavery living and dying, that tale
As though some ballad-singer had sung it all;

IV
Mancini's portrait of Augusta Gregory,
"Greatest since Rembrandt," according to John Synge;
A great ebullient portrait certainly;
But where is the brush that could show anything
Of all that pride and that humility?
And I am in despair that time may bring
Approved patterns of women or of men
But not that selfsame excellence again.

V
My mediaeval knees lack health until they bend,
But in that woman, in that household where
Honour had lived so long, all lacking found.
Childless I thought, "My children may find here
Deep-rooted things," but never foresaw its end,
And now that end has come I have not wept;
No fox can foul the lair the badger swept -

VI
(An image out of Spenser and the common tongue).
John Synge, I and Augusta Gregory, thought
All that we did, all that we said or sang
Must come from contact with the soil, from that
Contact everything Antaeus-like grew strong.
We three alone in modern times had brought
Everything down to that sole test again,
Dream of the noble and the beggar-man.

VII
And here's John Synge himself, that rooted man,
"Forgetting human words," a grave deep face.
You that would judge me, do not judge alone
This book or that, come to this hallowed place
Where my friends' portraits hang and look thereon;
Ireland's history in their lineaments trace;
Think where man's glory most begins and ends,
And say my glory was I had such friends. Very Happy

Simon Black
Low-Talker

Posts: 3

Reply: 7



PostPosted: September 20, 2005 2:12 PM 

THE MUNICIPAL GALLERY REVISITED
I
Around me the images of thirty years;
An ambush; pilgrims at the water-side;
Casement upon trial, half hidden by the bars,
Guarded; Griffith staring in hysterical pride;
Kevin O'Higgins' countenance that wears
A gentle questioning look that cannot hide
A soul incapable of remorse or rest;
A revolutionary soldier kneeling to be blessed.

II
An Abbot or Archbishop with an upraised hand
Blessing the Tricolour. "This is not," I say,
"The dead Ireland of my youth, but an Ireland
The poets have imagined, terrible and gay."
Before a woman's portrait suddenly I stand,
Beautiful and gentle in her Venetian way.
I met her all but fifty years ago
For twenty minutes in some studio.

III
Heart-smitten with emotion I sink down,
My heart recovering with covered eyes;
Wherever I had looked I had looked upon
My permanent or impermanent images:
Augusta Gregory's son; her sister's son,
Hugh Lane, "onlie begetter" of all these;
Hazel Lavery living and dying, that tale
As though some ballad-singer had sung it all;

IV
Mancini's portrait of Augusta Gregory,
"Greatest since Rembrandt," according to John Synge;
A great ebullient portrait certainly;
But where is the brush that could show anything
Of all that pride and that humility?
And I am in despair that time may bring
Approved patterns of women or of men
But not that selfsame excellence again.

V
My mediaeval knees lack health until they bend,
But in that woman, in that household where
Honour had lived so long, all lacking found.
Childless I thought, "My children may find here
Deep-rooted things," but never foresaw its end,
And now that end has come I have not wept;
No fox can foul the lair the badger swept -

VI
(An image out of Spenser and the common tongue).
John Synge, I and Augusta Gregory, thought
All that we did, all that we said or sang
Must come from contact with the soil, from that
Contact everything Antaeus-like grew strong.
We three alone in modern times had brought
Everything down to that sole test again,
Dream of the noble and the beggar-man.

VII
And here's John Synge himself, that rooted man,
"Forgetting human words," a grave deep face.
You that would judge me, do not judge alone
This book or that, come to this hallowed place
Where my friends' portraits hang and look thereon;
Ireland's history in their lineaments trace;
Think where man's glory most begins and ends,
And say my glory was I had such friends. Very Happy

siber
Low-Talker

Posts: 3

Reply: 8



PostPosted: September 20, 2005 2:15 PM 

THE MUNICIPAL GALLERY REVISITED
I
Around me the images of thirty years;
An ambush; pilgrims at the water-side;
Casement upon trial, half hidden by the bars, Guarded; Griffith staring in hysterical pride; Kevin O'Higgins' countenance that wears A gentle questioning look that cannot hide
A soul incapable of remorse or rest;
A revolutionary soldier kneeling to be blessed.

II
An Abbot or Archbishop with an upraised hand
Blessing the Tricolour. "This is not," I say,
"The dead Ireland of my youth, but an Ireland
The poets have imagined, terrible and gay."
Before a woman's portrait suddenly I stand,
Beautiful and gentle in her Venetian way.
I met her all but fifty years ago
For twenty minutes in some studio.

III
Heart-smitten with emotion I sink down,
My heart recovering with covered eyes;
Wherever I had looked I had looked upon
My permanent or impermanent images:
Augusta Gregory's son; her sister's son,
Hugh Lane, "onlie begetter" of all these;
Hazel Lavery living and dying, that tale
As though some ballad-singer had sung it all;

IV
Mancini's portrait of Augusta Gregory,
"Greatest since Rembrandt," according to John Synge;
A great ebullient portrait certainly;
But where is the brush that could show anything
Of all that pride and that humility?
And I am in despair that time may bring
Approved patterns of women or of men
But not that selfsame excellence again.

V
My mediaeval knees lack health until they bend,
But in that woman, in that household where
Honour had lived so long, all lacking found.
Childless I thought, "My children may find here
Deep-rooted things," but never foresaw its end,
And now that end has come I have not wept;
No fox can foul the lair the badger swept -

VI
(An image out of Spenser and the common tongue).
John Synge, I and Augusta Gregory, thought
All that we did, all that we said or sang
Must come from contact with the soil, from that
Contact everything Antaeus-like grew strong.
We three alone in modern times had brought
Everything down to that sole test again,
Dream of the noble and the beggar-man.

VII
And here's John Synge himself, that rooted man,
"Forgetting human words," a grave deep face.
You that would judge me, do not judge alone
This book or that, come to this hallowed place
Where my friends' portraits hang and look thereon;
Ireland's history in their lineaments trace;
Think where man's glory most begins and ends,
And say my glory was I had such friends.

Yev Kassem
Wigmaster

Posts: 852

Reply: 9



PostPosted: September 20, 2005 3:16 PM 

What the hell is goin on here?!! Confused

Jimmy


Posts: 5505

Reply: 10



PostPosted: September 20, 2005 5:17 PM 

You cry... and then you cry again.

.... uh... and then again

Mookie
Magnificent Bastard

Posts: 2285

Reply: 11



PostPosted: September 20, 2005 6:56 PM 

Simon- that was a great post. I almost read the whole thing.


Laughing

Joyce
Germaphobe

Posts: 29

Reply: 12



PostPosted: April 14, 2006 7:59 AM 

Does anyone know the name of the poem from Yeats that was on the Seinfeld episode ("The Deal")of Elaine's b'day? The quote was in the card from Kramer. Thanks!

Bookman Author Profile Page
Germaphobe

Posts: 29

Reply: 13



PostPosted: April 14, 2006 12:32 PM 

Shocked

Bookman Author Profile Page
Germaphobe

Posts: 29

Reply: 14



PostPosted: April 14, 2006 12:35 PM 

I'm triple-X? Boutros Boutros-Ghali!

Gendison
Germaphobe

Posts: 29

Reply: 15



PostPosted: April 14, 2006 5:57 PM 

I guess Joysce is going to take off her top.

Maestro
Germaphobe

Posts: 29

Reply: 16



PostPosted: April 16, 2006 12:16 PM 

Joyce almost read thes whole thing Wink

Bookman Author Profile Page
Condo Board President

Posts: 2988

Reply: 17



PostPosted: April 16, 2006 9:59 PM 

I hear that's how she died.

Maestro
Cockeyed Optimist

Posts: 537

Reply: 18



PostPosted: April 17, 2006 12:23 PM 

George: She's ahem....gone
Jerry: Dead?
Elaine: I'm so sorry George
Jerry: Yeah! me too
Kramer: Poor Lily..
Jerry: How did it happen?
George: Apparently she read THE MUNICIPAL GALLERY REVISITED All: Aah!..
Kramer: Well that's weird
Jerry: So I guess , you're not getting married?
George: (embarrassed with a touch of unrestrained jubilation) Yes.
Jerry: But....
George: Yeah?
Jerry: Well , now I'm engaged..
George: Yeah?...
Jerry: Well I thought we'd both be getting married.
George: Hey!.. What can I tell ya.
Elaine: All right. (they start to leave except Jerry)
George: well humm.. lets get some coffee.
Jerry: WE HAD A PACT!!!



Join the discussion:
















Very Happy Smile Sad Surprised
Shocked Confused Cool Laughing
Mad Razz Embarassed Crying or Very Sad
Evil or Very Mad Twisted Evil Rolling Eyes Wink
Powered by MTSmileys








Copyright ©2003, Mark Carey.