Dance there upon the shore; What need have you to care For wind or water's roar? And tumble out your hair That the salt drops have wet; Being young you have not known The fool's triumph, nor yet Love lost as soon as won. And he, the best warrior, dead And all the sheaves to bind! What need that you should dread The monstrous crying of wind?
William Butler Yeats
FALLEN MAJESTY
Although crowds gathered once if she but showed her face And even old men's eyes grew dim, this hand alone, Like some last courtier at a gipsy camping place Babbling of fallen majesty, records what's gone. The lineaments, the heart that laughter has made sweet, These, these remain, but I record what's gone. A crowd Will gather and not know that through its very street Once walked a thing that seemed, as it were, a burning cloud.
William Butler Yeats
LOVE AND THE BIRD
The moments passed as at a play, I had the wisdom love can bring, I had my share of mother wit; And yet for all that I could say, And though I had her praise for it, And she seemed happy as a king, Love's moon was withering away.
Believing every word I said I praised her body and her mind, Till pride had made her eyes grow bright, And pleasure made her cheeks grow red, And vanity her footfall light; Yet we, for all that praise, could find Nothing but darkness overhead.
I sat as silent as a stone And knew, though she'd not said a word, That even the best of love must die, And had been savagely undone Were it not that love, upon the cry Of a most ridiculous little bird, Threw up in the air his marvellous moon.