PRESENCES

by: W. B. Yeats (1865-1939)

      HIS night has been so strange that it seemed
      As if the hair stood up on my head.
      From going-down of the sun I have dreamed
      That women laughing, or timid or wild,
      In rustle of lace or silken stuff,
      Climbed up my creaking stair. They had read
      All I had rhymed of that monstrous thing
      Returned and yet unrequited love.
      They stood in the door and stood between
      My great wood lectern and the fire
      Till I could hear their hearts beating:
      One is a harlot, and one a child
      That never looked upon man with desire,
      And one, it may be, a queen.

"Presences" is reprinted from The Wild Swans at Coole. W.B. Yeats. New York: Macmillan, 1919.

MORE POEMS BY WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS

RELATED WEBSITES

BROWSE THE POETRY ARCHIVE:

[ A | B | C | D | E | F | G | H | I | J | K | L | M | N | O | P | Q | R | S | T | U | V | W | X | Y | Z ]

Home · Poetry Store · Links · Email · © 2002 Poetry-Archive.com