William Butler Yeats

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

The Wheel - Poem by William Butler Yeats

THROUGH winter-time we call on spring,
And through the spring on summer call,
And when abounding hedges ring
Declare that winter's best of all;
And after that there s nothing good
Because the spring-time has not come --
Nor know that what disturbs our blood
Is but its longing for the tomb.

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Read poems about / on: spring, winter, summer, time

Poem Submitted: Thursday, May 17, 2001

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