William Butler Yeats
a first confession
I admit the briar entangled in my hair did not injure me; My blenching and trembling, nothing but dissembling, nothing but coquetry. I long for truth, and yet I cannot stay from that my better self disowns, for a man's attention brings such satisfaction to the craving in my bones. Brightness that I pull back from the Zodiac, why those questioning eyes that are fixed upon me? What can they do but shun me if empty night replies?