October 24th, 2008 § 1
The pity beyond all telling
Is hid in the heart of love:
The folk who are buying and selling
The clouds on their journey above
The cold wet winds ever blowing
And the shadowy hazel grove
Where mouse-gray waters are flowing
Threaten the head that I love.
The Pity of Love by William Butler Yeats (1865-1939)
October 24th, 2008 § 0
Where the red wine-cup floweth, there art thou!
Where luxury curtains out the evening sky;–
Triumphant Mirth sits flush’d upon thy brow,
And ready laughter lurks within thine eye.
Where the long day declineth, lone I sit,
In idle thought, my listless hands entwined,
And, faintly smiling at remember’d wit,
Act the scene over to my musing mind.
In my lone dreams I hear thy eloquent voice,
I see the pleased attention of the throng,
And bid my spirit in thy joy rejoice,
Lest in love’s selfishness I do thee wrong.
Ah! midst that proud and mirthful company
Send’st thou no wondering thought to love and me?
Sonnet VI by Caroline Norton