William Butler Yeats

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

Church And State - Poem by William Butler Yeats

HERE is fresh matter, poet,
Matter for old age meet;
Might of the Church and the State,
Their mobs put under their feet.
O but heart's wine shall run pure,
Mind's bread grow sweet.
That were a cowardly song,
Wander in dreams no more;
What if the Church and the State
Are the mob that howls at the door!
Wine shall run thick to the end,
Bread taste sour.


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Read poems about / on: song, heart, howl, running, dream



Poem Submitted: Tuesday, May 15, 2001

Poem Edited: Tuesday, May 15, 2001


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