THE LAMENTATION OF THE OLD PENSIONER
by: William Butler Yeats
(1865-1939)
- LTHOUGH I shelter from the rain
- Under a broken tree
- My chair was nearest to the fire
- In every company
- That talked of love or politics,
- Ere Time transfigured me.
-
- Though lads are making pikes again
- For some conspiracy,
- And crazy rascals rage their fill
- At human tyranny,
- My contemplations are of Time
- That has transfigured me.
-
- There's not a woman turns her face
- Upon a broken tree,
- And yet the beauties that I loved
- Are in my memory;
- I spit into the face of Time
- That has transfigured me.
"The Lamentation of the Old
Pensioner" is reprinted from The Rose. W.B. Yeats.
1893. |
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POEMS BY WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS |
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