William Butler Yeats

poems:

21

reconciliation

Some may have blamed you that you took away the verses that could move them on the day when, the ears being deafened, the sight of the eyes blind with lightning, you went from me, and I could find nothing to make a song about but kings, helmets, and swords, and half-forgotten things that were like memories of you -- but now we'll out, for the world lives as long ago; And while we're in our laughing, weeping fit, hurl helmets, crowns, and swords into the pit. But, dear, cling close to me; since you were gone, My barren thoughts have chilled me to the bone.

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