William Butler Yeats

(13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939 / County Dublin / Ireland)

A Man Young And Old: II. Human Dignity


Like the moon her kindness is,
If kindness I may call
What has no comprehension in't,
But is the same for all
As though my sorrow were a scene
Upon a painted wall.

So like a bit of stone I lie
Under a broken tree.
I could recover if I shrieked
My heart's agony
To passing bird, but I am dumb
From human dignity.

Submitted: Monday, January 13, 2003

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  • Rookie Andrew Hoellering (12/15/2009 3:35:00 AM)

    A continuation from the previous poem, with the image of the moon standing for callous indifference.Because the loved one treats him impersonally, he becomes like a stone, too proud to cure himself through the expression of his feelings. (Report) Reply

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