William Butler Yeats

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

The Arrow - Poem by William Butler Yeats

Play Poem Video

I THOUGHT of your beauty, and this arrow,
Made out of a wild thought, is in my marrow.
There's no man may look upon her, no man,
As when newly grown to be a woman,
Tall and noble but with face and bosom
Delicate in colour as apple blossom.
This beauty's kinder, yet for a reason
I could weep that the old is out of season.


Comments about The Arrow by William Butler Yeats

There is no comment submitted by members..



Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Read poems about / on: beauty, woman, women



Poem Submitted: Thursday, May 17, 2001

Poem Edited: Thursday, May 17, 2001


[Hata Bildir]