The Author William Butler Yeats

The Dawn


I would be ignorant as the dawn
That has looked down
On that old queen measuring a town
With the pin of a brooch,
Or on the withered men that saw
From their pedantic Babylon
The careless planets in their courses,
The stars fade out where the moon comes,
And took their tablets and did sums;
I would be ignorant as the dawn
That merely stood, rocking the glittering coach
Above the cloudy shoulders of the horses;
I would be—for no knowledge is worth a straw—
Ignorant and wanton as the dawn.


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Return to the William Butler Yeats Home Page, or . . . Read the next poem; The Dedication To A Book Of Stories

It ain't what you don't know that gets you into trouble. It's what you know for sure that just ain't so.