Hanrahan Laments Because Of His Wanderings
by William Butler Yeats

O Where is our Mother of Peace Nodding her purple hood? For the winds that awakened the stars Are blowing through my blood. I would that the death-pale deer Had come through the mountain side, And trampled the mountain away, And drunk up the murmuring tide; For the winds that awakened the stars Are blowing through my blood, And our Mother of Peace has forgot me Under her purple hood.
Crowd Score: 10.0
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