I found that ivory image there Dancing with her chosen youth, But when he wound her coal-black hair As though to strangle her, no scream Or bodily movement did I dare, Eyes under eyelids did so gleam; Love is like the lion's tooth. When She, and though some said she played I said that she had danced heart's truth, Drew a knife to strike him dead, I could but leave him to his fate; For no matter what is said They had all that had their hate; Love is like the lion's tooth. Did he die or did she die? Seemed to die or died they both? God be with the times when I Cared not a thraneen for what chanced So that I had the limbs to try Such a dance as there was danced - Love is like the lion's tooth.
Return to the William Butler Yeats library , or . . . Read the next poem; Crazy Jane On God