Back to Index

Aedh tells of the perfect Beauty

by W. B. Yeats, 1899

O cloud-pale eyelids, dream-dimmed eyes
The poets labouring all their days
To build a perfect beauty in rhyme
Are overthrown by a woman's gaze
And by the unlabouring brood of the skies:
And therefore my heart will bow, when dew
Is dropping sleep, until God burn time,
Before the unlabouring stars and you.

Published in The Wind Among the Reeds
Tags: beauty

Any corrections or public domain poems I should have here? Email me at poems (at) this domain.