The Author William Butler Yeats

The Travail Of Passion

by


When the flaming lute-thronged angelic door is wide;
When an immortal passion breathes in mortal clay;
Our hearts endure the scourge, the plaited thorns, the way
Crowded with bitter faces, the wounds in palm and side,
The hyssop-heavy sponge, the flowers by Kidron stream:
We will bend down and loosen our hair over you,
That it may drop faint perfume, and be heavy with dew,
Lilies of death-pale hope, roses of passionate dream.
div does not fill when I defer javascript

10

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


Add The Travail Of Passion to your library.

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

© 2022 AmericanLiterature.com