The Lover Tells Of The Rose In His Heart
ALL things uncomely and broken, all things worn out and old,
The cry of a child by the roadway, the creak of a lumbering cart,
The heavy steps of the ploughman, splashing the wintry mould,
Are wronging your image that blossoms a rose in the deeps of my heart.
The wrong of unshapely things is a wrong too great to be told;
I hunger to build them anew and sit on a green knoll apart,
With the earth and the sky and the water, re-made, like a casket of gold
For my dreams of your image that blossoms a rose in the deeps of my heart.
–William Butler Yeats
3 Responses
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There is never anything wrong with the poetry of William Butler Yeats: "The wrong of unshapely things is a wrong too great to be told;/I hunger to build them anew…"
*sigh*
Given the choice, I'd rather be young, rich, and good-looking.
But I'm pretty shallow.