Poem by William Butler Yeats

Fallen Majesty

Although crowds gathered once if she but showed her face,
And even old men's eyes grew dim, this hand alone,
Like some last courtier at a gypsy camping place,
Babbling of fallen majesty, records what's gone.

The lineaments, a heart that laughter has made sweet,
These, these remain, but I record what's gone. A crowd
Will gather, and not know it walks the very street
Whereon a thing once walked that seemed a burning cloud.

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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