A Month with Yeats: Day Twenty-Three

Today’s quote is from ‘He Wishes His Beloved Were Dead’.

‘…your hair was bound and wound

About the stars and moon and sun:’—W.B. Yeats

 

Growing Old

 

No matter how old we grow, how deep the furrows

Carved in the delicate lines of once-soft skin,

How thin the hair and threaded through with age,

Hoar-frosted strands and the dull ache of joints,

No matter how many miles between your fingers’ touch

And the whispered breath that lifts the hair above my ear,

You are here, bound to me with the strings of my heart,

With the gold and the bright, laughing green shoots of spring.

Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

47 thoughts on “A Month with Yeats: Day Twenty-Three”

      1. I tried my best to post from my cell phone but failed miserably and had to come back to my desk top. Mobile WordPress app is not at all user friendly, okay to read but not to write, link or publish.

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  2. Oh my–beautiful, Jane! Sigh.
    I love this quotation, but I will have to come back to it. It’s Thanksgiving, and I’m expecting fifteen here for dinner in a few hours.

      1. This is how a poet’s mind works. You’ve seen a twist already?
        I remember the synopsis of a movie, which went sth like- A story of a man who meets the love of his life at his wedding.

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