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William Butler Yeats - At The Abbey Theatre
Work rating: Low

DEAR Craoibhin Aoibhin, look into our case.
When we are high and airy hundreds say
That if we hold that flight they`ll leave the place,
While those same hundreds mock another day
Because we have made our art of common things,
So bitterly, you`d dream they longed to look
All their lives through into some drift of wings.
You`ve dandled them and fed them from the book
And know them to the bone; impart to us —
We`ll keep the secret — a new trick to please.
Is there a bridle for this Proteus
That turns and changes like his draughty seas?
Or is there none, most popular of men,
But when they mock us, that we mock again?
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