English poem
He Tells Of The Perfect Beauty
O CLOUD-PALE eyelids, dream-dimmed eyes, The poets labouring all their days To build a perfect beauty in rhyme Are overthrown by a woman’s gaze And by the unlabouring brood of the skies: And therefore my heart will bow, when dew Is dropping sleep, until God burn time, Before the unlabouring stars and you.
More by William Butler Yeats
- He Mourns For The Change That Has Come Upon Him And His Beloved, And Longs For The End Of The World
- He Remembers Forgotten Beauty
- He Reproves The Curlew
- He Tells Of A Valley Full Of Lovers
- He Thinks Of His Past Greatness When A Part Of The Constellations Of Heaven
- He Thinks Of Those Who Have Spoken Evil Of His Beloved
- He Wishes For The Cloths Of Heaven
- High Talk