The threefold terror of love; a fallen flare
Through the hollow of an ear;
Wings beating about the room;
The terror of all terrors that I bore
The Heavens in my womb.

Had I not found content among the shows
Every common woman knows,
Chimney corner, garden walk,
Or rocky cistern where we tread the clothes
And gather all the talk?

What is this flesh I purchased with my pains,
This fallen star my milk sustains,
This love that makes my heart's blood stop
Or strikes a Sudden chill into my bones
And bids my hair stand up?

Added: on August 3rd, 2008 at 8:20 AM | Viewed: 3986 times | Comments (3)

Poet: William Butler Yeats
Poem: The Mother Of God
Volume: The Winding Stair and Other Poems
Year: Published/Written in 1933
Poem of the Day on:
May 14 2003

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