William Butler Yeats (13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939 / County Dublin / Ireland)
Poems by William Butler Yeats : 182 / 402
Peace
AH, that Time could touch a form
That could show what Homer's age
Bred to be a hero's wage.
'Were not all her life but storm
Would not painters paint a form
Of such noble lines,' I said,
'Such a delicate high head,
All that sternness amid charm,
All that sweetness amid strength?'
Ah, but peace that comes at length,
Came when Time had touched her form.
William Butler Yeats
Submitted: Tuesday, May 15, 2001
Edited: Tuesday, May 15, 2001
Read poems about / on: hero, strength, peace, time, life
Poems by William Butler Yeats : 182 / 402
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