Poems. William Butler Yeats

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      And this woman,

      Oona, my nurse, should have remembered it,

      For we were happy for a long time there.

      The paths are overgrown with thickets now,

      Or else some change has come upon my sight.

      And this young man, that should have known the woods —

      Because we met him on their border but now,

      Wandering and singing like a wave of the sea —

      Is so wrapped up in dreams of terrors to come

      That he can give no help.

      You have still some way,

      But I can put you on the trodden path

      Your servants take when they are marketing.

      But first sit down and rest yourself awhile,

      For my old fathers served your fathers, lady,

      Longer than books can tell – and it were strange

      If you and yours should not be welcome here.

      And it were stranger still were I ungrateful

      For such kind welcome – but I must be gone,

      For the night's gathering in.

      It is a long while

      Since I've set eyes on bread or on what buys it.

      So you are starving even in this wood,

      Where I had thought I would find nothing changed.

      But that's a dream, for the old worm o' the world

      Can eat its way into what place it pleases.

      Beautiful lady, give me something too;

      I fell but now, being weak with hunger and thirst

      And lay upon the threshold like a log.

      I gave for all and that was all I had.

      Look, my purse is empty. I have passed

      By starving men and women all this day,

      And they have had the rest; but take the purse,

      The silver clasps on't may be worth a trifle.

      But if you'll come to-morrow to my house

      You shall have twice the sum.

      What, music, music!

      Ah, do not blame the finger on the string;

      The doctors bid me fly the unlucky times

      And find distraction for my thoughts, or else

      Pine to my grave.

      I have said nothing, lady.

      Why should the like of us complain?

      Have done.

      Sorrows that she's but read of in a book

      Weigh on her mind as if they had been her own.

      Were I but crazy for love's sake

      I know who'd measure out his length,

      I know the heads that I should break,

      For crazy men have double strength.

      There! all's out now to leave or take,

      And who mocks music mocks at love;

      And when I'm crazy for love's sake

      I'll not go far to choose.

      Enough!

      I know the heads that I shall break.

      Shut to the door before the night has fallen,

      For who can say what walks, or in what shape

      Some devilish creature flies in the air, but now

      Two grey-horned owls hooted above our heads.

      So that fool's gone.

      He's seen the horned owls too.

      There's no good luck in owls, but it may be

      That the ill luck's to fall upon his head.

      You never thanked her ladyship.

      Thank her,

      For seven halfpence and a silver bit?

      But for this empty purse?

      What's that for thanks,

      Or what's the double of it that she promised?

      With bread and flesh and every sort of food

      Up to a price no man has heard the like of

      And rising every day.

      We have all she had;

      She emptied out the purse before our eyes.

      Leave that door open.

      When those that have read books,

      And seen the seven wonders of the world,

      Fear what's above or what's below the ground,

      It's time that poverty should bolt the door.

      I'll have no bolts, for there is not a thing

      That walks above the ground or under it

      I had not rather welcome to this house

      Than any more of mankind, rich or poor.

      So that they brought us money.

      I heard say

      There's something that appears like a white bird,

      A pigeon or a seagull or the like,

      But if you hit it with a stone or a stick

      It clangs as though it had been made of brass,

      And that if you dig down where it was scratching

      You'll find a crock of gold.

      But dream of gold

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