Yeats' Poetry

TO A CHILD DANCING IN THE WIND
by: W. B. Yeats (1865-1939)

ANCE there upon the shore;

What need have you to care

For wind or water's roar?

And tumble out your hair

That the salt drops have wet;

Being young you have not known

The fool's triumph, nor yet

Love lost as soon as won,

Nor the best labourer dead

And all the sheaves to bind.

What need have you to dread

The monstrous crying of wind?

PEACE

by: W. B. Yeats (1865-1939)

H, that Time could touch a form

That could show what Homer's age

Bred to be a hero's wage.

'Were not all her life but storm,

Would not painters paint a form

Of such noble lines,' I said,

'Such a delicate high head,

All that sternness amid charm,

All that sweetness amid strength?'

Ah, but peace that comes at length,

Came when Time had touched her form.