The Author William Butler Yeats



    Some may have blamed you that you took away
    The verses that could move them on the day
    When, the ears being deafened, the sight of the eyes blind
    With lightning you went from me, and I could find
    Nothing to make a song about but kings,
    Helmets, and swords, and half-forgotten things
    That were like memories of you, but now
    We’ll out, for the world lives as long ago;
    And while we’re in our laughing, weeping fit,
    Hurl helmets, crowns, and swords into the pit.
    But, dear, cling close to me; since you were gone,
    My barren thoughts have chilled me to the bone.


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