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A Poet to his Beloved

by W. B. Yeats, 1899

I bring you with reverent hands
 The books of my numberless dreams;
 White woman that passion has worn
 As the tide wears the dove-gray sands,
 And with heart more old than the horn
 That is brimmed from the pale fire of time:
 White woman with numberless dreams
 I bring you my passionate rhyme.

Published in The Wind Among the Reeds

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