What matter that you understood no word! Doubtless I spoke or sang what I had heard In broken sentences. My soul had found All happiness in its own cause or ground. Godhead on Godhead in sexual spasm begot Godhead. Some shadow fell. My soul forgot Those amorous cries that out of quiet come And must the common round of day resume.
Return to the William Butler Yeats library , or . . . Read the next poem; Roger Casement