Read more poems by William Butler Yeats: William Butler Yeats Poems at Poetry X.
We should be hidden from their eyes, Being but holy shows And bodies broken like a thorn Whereon the bleak north blows, To think of buried Hector And that none living knows. The women take so little stock In what I do or say They'd sooner leave their cosseting To hear a jackass bray; My arms are like the twisted thorn And yet there beauty lay; The first of all the tribe lay there And did such pleasure take - She who had brought great Hector down And put all Troy to wreck - That she cried into this ear, 'Strike me if I shriek.'
Added: 14 Sep 2001 | Last Read: 22 Jan 2021 2:44 PM | Viewed: 7354 times
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