The moments passed as at a play;
I had the wisdom love brings forth;
I had my share of mother-wit,
And yet for all that I could say,
And though I had her praise for it,
A cloud blown from the cut-throat North
Suddenly hid Love's moon away.

Believing every word I said,
I praised her body and her mind
Till pride had made her eyes grow bright,
And pleasure made her cheeks grow red,
And vanity her footfall light,
Yet we, for all that praise, could find
Nothing but darkness overhead.

We sat as silent as a stone,
We knew, though she'd not said a word,
That even the best of love must die,
And had been savagely undone
Were it not that Love upon the cry
Of a most ridiculous little bird
Tore from the clouds his marvellous moon.

Added: Feb 20 2003 | Viewed: 2024 times | Comments (0)

Poet: William Butler Yeats
Poem: A Memory Of Youth
Volume: Responsibilities
Year: Published/Written in 1914
There are no comments for this poem. Why not be the first one to post something about it?

Are you looking for more information on this poem? Perhaps you are trying to analyze it? The poem, A Memory Of Youth, has not yet been commented on. You can click here to be the first to post a comment about it. Of course you can also always discuss poems by William Butler Yeats with others on the Poetry Connection poetry forum!