You waves, though you dance by my feet like children at play,
Though you glow and you glance, though you purr and you dart;
In the Junes that were warmer than these are, the waves were more gay,
When I was a boy with never a crack in my heart.

The herring are not in the tides as they were of old;
My sorrow! for many a creak gave the creel in the-cart
That carried the take to Sligo town to be sold,
When I was a boy with never a crack in my heart.

And ah, you proud maiden, you are not so fair when his oar
Is heard on the water, as they were, the proud and apart,
Who paced in the eve by the nets on the pebbly shore,
When Iwas a boy with never a crack in my heart.

Added: on July 18th, 2006 at 7:13 PM | Viewed: 2193 times | Comments (1)

Poet: William Butler Yeats
Poem: The Meditation Of The Old Fisherman
Volume: Crossways
Year: Published/Written in 1889

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