William Butler Yeats (Уильям Батлер Йейтс)

The Lover Tells of the Rose in His Heart

ALL things uncomely and broken, all things worn out and old,
The cry of a child by the roadway, the creak of a lumbering cart,
The heavy steps of the ploughman, splashing the wintry mould,
Are wronging your image that blossoms a rose in the deeps of my heart.

The wrong of unshapely things is a wrong too great to be told;
I hunger to build them anew and sit on a green knoll apart,
With the earth and the sky and the water, re-made, like a casket of gold
For my dreams of your image that blossoms a rose in the deeps of my heart. 

1. The Pity of Love
2. The Dedication to a Book of Stories Selected from the Irish Novelists
3. The Lamentation of the Old Pensioner
4. To Ireland in the Coming Times
5. The Old Men Admiring Themselves in the Water

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