Tribute Page 16
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 Yeats
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 Yeats