Читать книгу The Wind Among the Reeds - Yeats William Butler, William Butler Yeats - Страница 25

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.