William Butler Yeats

He Hears The Cry Of The Sedge

I wander by the edge Of this desolate lake Where wind cries in the sedge: Until the axle break That keeps the stars in their round, And hands hurl in the deep The banners of East and West, And the girdle of light is unhound, Your breast will not lie by the breast Of your beloved in sleep.

Comment Section just now

Feel free to be first to leave comment.

8/2200 - 0