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HAD I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.W.B. Yeats (1865–1939)
“He Wishes For the Cloths of Heaven”
from the Collected Works of W.B. YeatsW.B. Yeats (1865–1939). The Wind Among the Reeds. 1899.
11. The Fiddler of Dooney
WHEN I play on my fiddle in Dooney,
Folk dance like a wave of the sea;
My cousin is priest in Kilvarnet,
My brother in Moharabuiee.I passed my brother and cousin: 5
They read in their books of prayer;
I read in my book of songs
I bought at the Sligo fair.When we come at the end of time,
To Peter sitting in state, 10
He will smile on the three old spirits,
But call me first through the gate;For the good are always the merry,
Save by an evil chance,
And the merry love the fiddle 15
And the merry love to dance:And when the folk there spy me,
They will all come up to me,
With ‘Here is the fiddler of Dooney!’
And dance like a wave of the seaW.B. Yeats (1865–1939). The Wind Among the Reeds. 1899.
10. The Song of the old Mother
I RISE in the dawn, and I kneel and blow
Till the seed of the fire flicker and glow;
And then I must scrub and bake and sweep
Till stars are beginning to blink and peep;
And the young lie long and dream in their bed 5
Of the matching of ribbons for bosom and head,
And their day goes over in idleness,
And they sigh if the wind but lift a tress:
While I must work because I am old,
And the seed of the fire gets feeble and cold.W.B. Yeats (1865–1939). The Wind Among the Reeds. 1899.
12. The Heart of the Woman
O WHAT to me the little room
That was brimmed up with prayer and rest;
He bade me out into the gloom,
And my breast lies upon his breast.O what to me my mother’s care,
The house where I was safe and warm;
The shadowy blossom of my hair
Will hide us from the bitter storm.O hiding hair and dewy eyes,
I am no more with life and death,
My heart upon his warm heart lies,
My breath is mixed into his breath.HAD I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.A true love poem !
…and the amazing thing about it is the rhyming words at the end of the lines are the same words
cloths and cloths. light and light. feet and feet. dreams and dreams! Yet when you first read it you dont notice !A wonderful poem Cath !
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