William Butler Yeats

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

The Lover Speaks To The Hearers Of His Songs In Coming Days - Poem by William Butler Yeats

O WOMEN, kneeling by your altar-rails long hence,
When songs I wove for my beloved hide the prayer,
And smoke from this dead heart drifts through the violet air
And covers away the smoke of myrrh and frankincense;
Bend down and pray for all that sin I wove in song,
Till the Attorney for Lost Souls cry her sweet cry,
And.call to my beloved and me: 'No longer fly
Amid the hovering, piteouS, penitential throng.'


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Read poems about / on: women, song, lost, heart, woman



Poem Submitted: Thursday, May 17, 2001



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