The Dolls

by

Author William Butler Yeats 
    A Doll in the doll-makerΒ’s house
    Looks at the cradle and balls:
    Β‘That is an insult to us.Β’
    But the oldest of all the dolls
    Who had seen, being kept for show,
    Generations of his sort,
    Out-screams the whole shelf: Β‘Although
    ThereΒ’s not a man can report
    Evil of this place,
    The man and the woman bring
    Hither to our disgrace,
    A noisy and filthy thing.Β’
    Hearing him groan and stretch
    The doll-makerΒ’s wife is aware
    Her husband has heard the wretch,
    And crouched by the arm of his chair,
    She murmurs into his ear,
    Head upon shoulder leant:
    Β‘My dear, my dear, oh dear,
    It was an accident.Β’