The Author William Butler Yeats

A Poet To His Beloved


I Bring you with reverent hands
The books of my numberless dreams,
White woman that passion has worn
As the tide wears the dove-grey sands,
And with heart more old than the horn
That is brimmed from the pale fire of time:
White woman with numberless dreams,
I bring you my passionate rhyme.


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Return to the William Butler Yeats Home Page, or . . . Read the next poem; A Prayer For My Daughter

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