Sunday, July 18, 2004

A poem I used to marvel at reread. How could I have forgotten it, except that Yeats' mastery of repetition (and its hints) always leaves my mind silent for a moment. From "In the Seven Woods."
The Old Men admiring Themselves in the Water
I heard the old, old men say,
'Everything alters,
And one by one we drop away.'
They had hands like claws, and their knees
Were twisted like the old thorn-trees
By the waters.
I heard the old, old men say
'All that's beautiful drifts away
Like the waters.'

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