Laughter not time destroyed my voice And put that crack in it, And when the moons pot-bellied I get a laughing fit, For that old Madge comes down the lane, A stone upon her breast, And a cloak wrapped about the stone, And she can get no rest With singing hush and hush-a-bye; She that has been wild And barren as a breaking wave Thinks that the stones a child. And Peter that had great affairs And was a pushing man Shrieks, I am King of the Peacocks, And perches on a stone; And then I laugh till tears run down And the heart thumps at my side, Remembering that her shriek was love And that he shrieks from pride.
Return to the William Butler Yeats library , or . . . Read the next poem; A Man Young And Old:- The Mermaid