The Author William Butler Yeats

The Cold Heaven


    Suddenly I saw the cold and rook-delighting Heaven
    That seemed as though ice burned and was but the more ice,
    And thereupon imagination and heart were driven
    So wild that every casual thought of that and this
    Vanished, and left but memories, that should be out of season
    With the hot blood of youth, of love crossed long ago;
    And I took all the blame out of all sense and reason,
    Until I cried and trembled and rocked to and fro,
    Riddled with light. Ah! when the ghost begins to quicken,
    Confusion of the death-bed over, is it sent
    Out naked on the roads, as the books say, and stricken
    By the injustice of the skies for punishment?


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