What Was Lost, par W. B. Yeats

W. B. Yeats

What Was Lost

I sing what was lost and dread what was won,

I walk in a battle fought over again,

My king a lost king, and lost soldiers my men;

Feet to the Rising and Setting may run,

They always beat on the same small stone.

#Irish #NobelPrize

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W. B. Yeats

What Was Lost

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