The Meditation Of The Old Fisherman
YOU waves, though you dance by my feet like children at play, / Though you glow and you glance, though you purr and you dart;
The Hawk
❦
'CALL down the hawk from the air;
Let him be hooded or caged
Till the yellow eye has grown mild,
For larder and spit are bare,
The old cook enraged,
The scullion gone wild.'
'I will not be clapped in a hood,
Nor a cage, nor alight upon wrist,
Now I have learnt to be proud
Hovering over the wood
In the broken mist
Or tumbling cloud.'
'What tumbling cloud did you cleave,
Yellow-eyed hawk of the mind,
Last evening? that I, who had sat
Dumbfounded before a knave,
Should give to my friend
A pretence of wit.'
More poems by William Butler Yeats
Are You Content?
I CALL on those that call me son, / Grandson, or great-grandson,
The Sad Shepherd
THERE was a man whom Sorrow named his Friend, / And he, of his high comrade Sorrow dreaming,
A Song
I THOUGHT no more was needed / Youth to polong