William Butler Yeats

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

The Dolls - Poem by William Butler Yeats

A DOLL in the doll-maker's house
Looks at the cradle and bawls:
'That is an insult to us.'
But the oldest of all the dolls,
Who had seen, being kept for show,
Generations of his sort,
Out-screams the whole shelf: 'Although
There's not a man can report
Evil of this place,
The man and the woman bring
Hither, to our disgrace,
A noisy and filthy thing.'
Hearing him groan and stretch
The doll-maker's wife is aware
Her husband has heard the wretch,
And crouched by the arm of his chair,
She murmurs into his ear,
Head upon shoulder leant:
'My dear, my dear, O dear.
It was an accident.'


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Read poems about / on: husband, evil, woman, house, women



Poem Submitted: Thursday, May 17, 2001



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