POEMS- WILLIAMS BUTLER YEATS [39]
eyes,
And then the clash of fallen horsemen and the cries
Of unknown perishing armies beat about my ears.
We who still labour by the cromlech on the shore,
The grey caim on the hill, when day sinks drowned in
dew,
Being weary of the world's empires, bow down to you.
Master of the still stars and of the flaming door.
And then the clash of fallen horsemen and the cries
Of unknown perishing armies beat about my ears.
We who still labour by the cromlech on the shore,
The grey caim on the hill, when day sinks drowned in
dew,
Being weary of the world's empires, bow down to you.
Master of the still stars and of the flaming door.