I admit the briar
Entangled in my hair
Did not injure me;
My blenching and trembling,
Nothing but dissembling,
Nothing but coquetry.

I long for truth, and yet
I cannot stay from that
My better self disowns,
For a man's attention
Brings such satisfaction
To the craving in my bones.

Brightness that I pull back
From the Zodiac,
Why those questioning eyes
That are fixed upon me?
What can they do but shun me
If empty night replies?

Added: Feb 20 2003 | Viewed: 1805 times | Comments (0)

Poet: William Butler Yeats
Poem: A First Confession
Volume: The Winding Stair and Other Poems
Year: Published/Written in 1933
Poem of the Day on:
May 1 2004
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