I am worn out with dreams; A weather-worn, marble triton Among the streams; And all day long I look Upon this ladys beauty As though I had found in book A pictured beauty, Pleased to have filled the eyes Or the discerning ears, Delighted to be but wise, For men improve with the years; And yet and yet Is this my dream, or the truth? O would that we had met When I had my burning youth; But I grow old among dreams, A weather-worn, marble triton Among the streams.
Return to the William Butler Yeats library , or . . . Read the next poem; Me Peacock