William Butler Yeats (13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939 / County Dublin / Ireland)
Poems by William Butler Yeats : 8 / 402
A Dream Of Death
I DREAMED that one had died in a strange place
Near no accustomed hand,
And they had nailed the boards above her face,
The peasants of that land,
Wondering to lay her in that solitude,
And raised above her mound
A cross they had made out of two bits of wood,
And planted cypress round;
And left her to the indifferent stars above
Until I carved these words:
i{She was more beautiful than thy first love,}
i{But now lies under boards.}
William Butler Yeats
Submitted: Tuesday, May 15, 2001
Edited: Tuesday, May 15, 2001
Read poems about / on: solitude, beautiful, death, dream, love, star
Poems by William Butler Yeats : 8 / 402
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I'm looking for the face I had before the world was made.
Yeats.
12 lines - Novels spoken. I never get tired of saying THE BEST POETS can do in 12 lines what others have to do in 36. amazing - may Yeats smile in his eternal slumber.
Yeats shows us within his 'dream' that death does not have to be an ugly tragidy but from death love can still exist, even when our loved one has passed.