Sunday, November 6, 2011

A Poet to His Beloved



I bring you with reverent hands
The books of my numberless dreams,
White woman that passion has worn
As the tide wears the dove-gray sands,
And with heart more old than the horn
That is brimmed from the pale fire of time:
White woman with numberless dreams,
I bring you my passionate rhyme.

William Butler Yeats