All things uncomely and broken,
all things worn-out and old,
The cry of a child by the roadway,
the creak of a lumbering cart,
The heavy steps of the ploughman,
splashing the wintry mould,
Are wronging your image that blossoms
a rose in the deeps of my heart...
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The quarrel of the sparrows in the eaves,
The full round moon and the star-laden sky,
And the loud song of the ever-singing leaves,
Had hid away earth's old and weary cry.
And then you came with those red mournful lips,
And with you came the whole of the world's...
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Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my...
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When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;
How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or...
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O, hurry, where by water, among the trees,
The delicate-stepping stag and his lady sigh,
When they have looked upon their images
Would none had ever loved but you and I!
Or have you heard that sliding silver-shoed
Pale silver-proud queen-woman of the sky,
...
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J’entends les chevaux de l’ombre, secouant leurs lourdes crinières,
Leurs sabots lourds de tumulte, leurs yeux luisant d'un blanc éclat.
Le Septentrion déroule sur eux la nuit lente et insidieuse,
L’Orient dit toute sa joie secrète avant le point du jour,
L’...
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Quand la porte angélique, flamboyante et retentissante de luths, s’ouvrira,
Quand une immortelle passion respirera dans la mortelle argile,
Quand nos cœurs endureront la couronne tressée d’épines, la voie encombrée,
Les fouets noués, les mains percées de clous, le flanc blessé...
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Je rêvai qu’une était morte en un pays étrange.
Loin de toute main accoutumée,
Et ils avaient cloué les planches au-dessus de sa face,
Les paysans de ce pays,
Et, émerveillés, ils avaient planté dans sa solitude
Un cyprès et un if.
Je vins...
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I Rise in the dawn, and I kneel and blow
Till the seed of the fire flicker and glow.
And then I must scrub, and bake, and sweep,
Till stars are beginning to blink and peep;
But the young lie long and dream in their bed
Of the matching of ribbons, the blue...
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I Will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;
Nine bean rows will I have there, a hive for the honey bee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.
And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping...
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