The Author William Butler Yeats

The Hawk

by


‘Call down the hawk from the air;
Let him be hooded or caged
Till the yellow eye has grown mild,
For larder and spit are bare,
The old cook enraged,
The scullion gone wild.’

‘I will not be clapped in a hood,
Nor a cage, nor alight upon wrist,
Now I have learnt to be proud
Hovering over the wood
In the broken mist
Or tumbling cloud.’

‘What tumbling cloud did you cleave,
Yellow-eyed hawk of the mind,
Last evening? that I, who had sat
Dumbfounded before a knave,
Should give to my friend
A pretence of wit.’

0

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


Add The Hawk to your library.

Return to the William Butler Yeats library , or . . . Read the next poem; The Heart Of The Woman

© 2022 AmericanLiterature.com