The Mountain Tomb Poem by William Butler Yeats

The Mountain Tomb

Rating: 3.5


POUR wine and dance if manhood still have pride,
Bring roses if the rose be yet in bloom;
The cataract smokes upon the mountain side,
Our Father Rosicross is in his tomb.
Pull down the blinds, bring fiddle and clarionet
That there be no foot silent in the room
Nor mouth from kissing, nor from wine unwet;
Our Father Rosicross is in his tomb.
In vain, in pain; the cataract still cries;
The everlasting taper lights the gloom;
All wisdom shut into his onyx eyes,
Our Father Rosicross sleeps in his tomb.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Dr Antony Theodore 01 February 2020

In vain, in pain; the cataract still cries; The everlasting taper lights the gloom; All wisdom shut into his onyx eyes, Our Father Rosicross sleeps in his tomb. very fine poem. tony

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Tapan M. Saren 15 April 2017

Very beautiful poem indeed...

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William Butler Yeats

William Butler Yeats

County Dublin / Ireland
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