A Poet to His Beloved
by William Butler Yeats
I bring you with reverent hands
The books of my numberless dreams,
White woman that passion has worn
As the tide wears the dove-grey
sands,
And with heart more old than the horn
That is brimmed from the pale fire of
time:
White woman with numberless dreams,
I bring you my passionate rhyme.
No comments:
Post a Comment