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Read more poems by William Butler Yeats: William Butler Yeats Poems at Poetry X.

Why should I blame her that she filled my days
With misery, or that she would of late
Have taught to ignorant men most violent ways,
Or hurled the little streets upon the great.
Had they but courage equal to desire?
What could have made her peaceful with a mind
That nobleness made simple as a fire,
With beauty like a tightened bow, a kind
That is not natural in an age like this,
Being high and solitary and most stern?
Why, what could she have done, being what she is?
Was there another Troy for her to burn?

Added: 6 Sep 2001 | Last Read: 24 May 2012 3:41 AM | Viewed: 10957 times

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