A PITY beyond all telling
Is hid in the heart of love:
The folk who are buying and selling,
The clouds on their journey above,
The cold wet winds ever blowing,
And the shadowy hazel grove
Where mouse-grey waters are flowing,
Threaten the head that I love.
More verses by William Butler Yeats
- The Heart Of The Woman
- The Lover Mourns For The Loss Of Love
- Meeting
- News For The Delphic Oracle
- The Ghost Of Roger Casement