Poem by William Butler Yeats

* * *

ALL things can tempt me from this craft of verse:
One time it was a woman's face, or worse --
The seeming needs of my fool-driven land;
Now nothing but comes readier to the hand
Than this accustomed toil. When I was young,
I had not given a penny for a song
Did not the poet Sing it with such airs
That one believed he had a sword upstairs;
Yet would be now, could I but have my wish,
Colder and dumber and deafer than a fish. 

1. The Rose of Battle
2. For Anne Gregory
3. The Old Men Admiring Themselves in the Water
4. The Rose of the World
5. The Lover Tells of the Rose in His Heart

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