William Butler Yeats (1865?1939) <\/p>\n
WHO dreamed that beauty passes like a dream? <\/p>\n
For these red lips with all their mournful pride, <\/p>\n
Mournful that no new wonder may betide, <\/p>\n
Troy passed away in one high funeral gleam, <\/p>\n
And Usna?s children died. <\/p>\n
We and the laboring world are passing by:? <\/p>\n
Amid men?s souls that day by day gives place, <\/p>\n
More fleeting than the sea?s foam-fickle face, <\/p>\n
Under the passing stars, foam of the sky, <\/p>\n
Lives on this lonely face. <\/p>\n
Bow down, archangels, in your dim abode: <\/p>\n
Before ye were or any hearts to beat, <\/p>\n
Weary and kind one stood beside His seat; <\/p>\n
He made the world, to be a grassy road <\/p>\n
Before her wandering feet. <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
William Butler Yeats (1865?1939) WHO dreamed that beauty passes like a dream? For these red lips with all their mournful pride, Mournful that no new wonder may betide, Troy passed away in one high funeral gleam, And Usna?s children died. … Continue reading