The Author William Butler Yeats

The Harp Of Aengus

by


Edain came out of Midhir's hill, and lay
Beside young Aengus in his tower of glass,
Where time is drowned in odour-laden winds
And Druid moons, and murmuring of boughs,
And sleepy boughs, and boughs where apples made
Of opal and ruhy and pale chrysolite
Awake unsleeping fires; and wove seven strings,
Sweet with all music, out of his long hair,
Because her hands had been made wild by love.
When Midhir's wife had changed her to a fly,
He made a harp with Druid apple-wood
That she among her winds might know he wept;
And from that hour he has watched over none
But faithful lovers.

0

facebook share button twitter share button reddit share button share on pinterest pinterest


Add The Harp Of Aengus to your library.

Return to the William Butler Yeats library , or . . . Read the next poem; The Hawk

© 2022 AmericanLiterature.com