Time to put off the world and go somewhere And find my health again in the sea air, Beggar to beggar cried, being frenzy-struck, And make my soul before my pate is bare. And get a comfortable wife and house To rid me of the devil in my shoes, Beggar to beggar cried, being frenzy-struck, And the worse devil that is between my thighs. And though Id marry with a comely lass, She need not be too comely, let it pass, Beggar to beggar cried, being frenzy-struck, But theres a devil in a looking-glass. Nor should she be too rich, because the rich Are driven by wealth as beggars by the itch, Beggar to beggar cried, being frenzy-struck, And cannot have a humorous happy speech. And there Ill grow respected at my ease, And hear amid the gardens nightly peace, Beggar to beggar cried, being frenzy-struck, The wind-blown clamour of the barnacle-geese.
Return to the William Butler Yeats library , or . . . Read the next poem; Blood And The Moon