A crazy man that found a cup, When all but dead of thirst, Hardly dared to wet his mouth Imagining, moon-accursed, That another mouthful And his beating heart would burst. October last I found it too But found it dry as bone, And for that reason am I crazed And my sleep is gone.
Return to the William Butler Yeats library , or . . . Read the next poem; A Man Young And Old:- The Friends Of His Youth