A Dream Of Death
by William Butler Yeats

I Dreamed that one had died in a strange place Near no accustomed hand, And they had nailed the boards above her face, The peasants of that land, Wondering to lay her in that solitude, And raised above her mound A cross they had made out of two bits of wood, And planted cypress round; And left her to the indifferent stars above Until I carved these words: I(She was more beautiful than thy first love,) I(But now lies under boards.)
Crowd Score: 6.5
Want to save this story?
Create a free account to build your personal library of favorite stories
Sign Up - It's Free!Already have an account? Log in