In Memory Of W.B. Yeats - Poem by Karen Petersen
I see the sorrows on your haunted face
never knowing what they have brought for you
But the time has come, a kind of race
to put life, not death in its place
and live out your days, one by one
not with a measured gaiety
but with passion as your pace.
I see your reticence, the studied gaze
of one who’s lived with emotions closely held
for whom neither love nor hate could really faze–
yet there in your eyes behind it all,
behind your gentle sigh, a call
a plea for forgiveness, for escape
from those terrible long nights and days.
So live the living, and leave the dying to the dead
love to love and be loved, raise your bowed head
for there are those who see you thus
and dare a smile to cross your soul.
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