THE MAGI
by: W. B. Yeats (1865-1939)
- OW as at all times I can see in
the mind's eye,
- In their stiff, painted clothes, the pale unsatisfied ones
- Appear and disappear in the blue depth of the sky
- With all their ancient faces like rain-beaten stones,
- And all their helms of silver hovering side by side,
- And all their eyes still fixed, hoping to find once more,
- Being by Calvary's turbulence unsatisfied,
- The uncontrollable mystery on the bestial floor.
"The Magi" is reprinted
from Responsibilities. W.B. Yeats. New York: Macmillan,
1916. |
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POEMS BY WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS |
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