William Butler Yeats

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

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.

Submitted: Friday, January 03, 2003

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