The Author William Butler Yeats

The Witch


    Toil and grow rich,
    WhatÂ’s that but to lie
    With a foul witch
    And after, drained dry,
    To be brought
    To the chamber where
    Lies one long sought
    With despair.
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Return to the William Butler Yeats library , or . . . Read the next poem; The Withering Of The Boughs

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