Poem by William Butler Yeats

Paudeen

INDIGNANT at the fumbling wits, the obscure spite
Of our old paudeen in his shop, I stumbled blind
Among the stones and thorn-trees, under morning light;
Until a curlew cried and in the luminous wind
A curlew answered; and suddenly thereupon I thought
That on the lonely height where all are in God's eye,
There cannot be, confusion of our sound forgot,
A single soul that lacks a sweet crystalline cry. 

1. The Old Men Admiring Themselves in the Water
2. The Rose of Peace
3. The Rose of Battle
4. The Ballad of Father Gilligan
5. The Coming of Wisdom with Time

Print

1817 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version