Yeats’s speaker admits that almost anything can pull him away from writing poetry—once a woman’s face, or the urgent-seeming needs of his country. Now, he says, any easier task comes more readily to hand than the familiar labor of verse. As a young man, he would not have valued a song unless the poet sang it with enough swagger to suggest a fighter’s spirit. But now, if he could have his wish, he would be as cold, dumb, and deaf as a fish. That wish for numbness is really a wish to stop caring, because caring is what keeps tempting him away. The mood is weary and self-mocking: a confession of how hard it is to stay devoted to poetry when the world keeps pulling at him. He sounds tired of his own responsiveness, and the final image leaves a sad, comic edge.
All Things Can Tempt Me — Summary
All things can tempt me from this craft of verse: One time it was a woman's face, or worse-- The seeming needs of my fool-driven land; Now nothing but comes readier to the hand Than this accustomed toil. When I was young, I had not given a penny for a song Did not the poet sing it with such airs That one believed he had a sword upstairs; Yet would be now, could I but have my wish, Colder and dumber and deafer than a fish.