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

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He Gives His Beloved Certain Rhymes

FASTEN your hair with a golden pin,
And bind up every wandering tress;
I bade my heart build these poor rhymes:
It worked at them, day out, day in,
Building a sorrowful loveliness
Out of the battles of old times.
You need but lift a pearl-pale hand,
And bind up your long hair and sigh;
And all men's hearts must burn and beat;
And candle-like foam on the dim sand,
And stars climbing the dew-dropping sky,
Live but to light your passing feet.

Submitted: Tuesday, May 15, 2001
Edited: Tuesday, May 15, 2001


Read poems about / on: hair, sky, light, heart, star, work

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