Read more poems by William Butler Yeats: William Butler Yeats Poems at Poetry X.
A doll in the doll-maker's house Looks at the cradle and bawls: 'That is an insult to us.' But the oldest of all the dolls, Who had seen, being kept for show, Generations of his sort, Out-screams the whole shelf: 'Although There's not a man can report Evil of this place, The man and the woman bring Hither, to our disgrace, A noisy and filthy thing.' Hearing him groan and stretch The doll-maker's wife is aware Her husband has heard the wretch, And crouched by the arm of his chair, She murmurs into his ear, Head upon shoulder leant: 'My dear, my dear, O dear, It was an accident.'
Added: 7 Sep 2001 | Last Read: 20 Apr 2018 3:08 AM | Viewed: 6220 times
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