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W. B. Yeats

W. B. Yeats

The Valley of the Black Pig

The dews drop slowly and dreams gather; unknown spears
Suddenly hurtle before my dream-awakened 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 cairn 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.

#1899 #IrishWriters #TheWindAmongTheReeds

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He Mourns for the Change that Has Come Upon Him and His Beloved, and Longs for the End of the World

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I saw a staring virgin stand Where holy Dionysus died, And tear the heart out of his side… And lay the heart upon her hand And bear that beating heart away;



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