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William Butler Yeats - A Woman Homer Sung
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IF any man drew near
When I was young,
I thought, "He holds her dear,`
And shook with hate and fear.
But O! `twas bitter wrong
If he could pass her by
With an indifferent eye.
Whereon I wrote and wrought,
And now, being grey,
I dream that I have brought
To such a pitch my thought
That coming time can say,
"He shadowed in a glass
What thing her body was.`
For she had fiery blood
When I was young,
And trod so sweetly proud
As `twere upon a cloud,
A woman Homer sung,
That life and letters seem
But an heroic dream.
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