ALL things uncomely and broken, all things worn out and old,
The cry of a child by the roadway, the creak of a lumbering cart,
The heavy steps of the ploughman, splashing the wintry mould,
Are wronging your image that blossoms a rose in the deeps of my heart.
The wrong of unshapely things is a wrong too great to be told;
I hunger to build them anew and sit on a green knoll apart,
With the earth and the sky and the water, re-made, like a casket of gold
For my dreams of your image that blossoms a rose in the deeps of my heart.
William Butler Yeats
1865-1939
photo Boller Castle:gb
3 comments:
Ah, Yeats. I love poetry, too. Nice selections.
Teresa, some people know how to write the most beautiful words that touch our heart, don't they.
Thank you.
Beautifull.
I could find and read this poetry thanks to king Valdemar II marriage with the princess Berengaria Sanches of Portugal!
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