Poem by William Butler Yeats

The Old Pensioner

  I had a chair at every hearth,
  When no one turned to see,
  With "Look at that old fellow there,
  "And who may he be?"
  And therefore do I wander now,
  And the fret lies on me.

  The road-side trees keep murmuring
  Ah, wherefore murmur ye,
  As in the old days long gone by,
  Green oak and poplar tree?
  The well-known faces are all gone
  And the fret lies on me.

1. To a Poet, Who Would Have Me Praise Certain Bad Poets, Imitators of His and Mine
2. Upon a House Shaken by the Land Agitation
3. The Collar-Bone of a Hare
4. The Hero, The Girl, and The Fool
5. Owen Ahern and His Dancers

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