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The Rose in the Deeps of His Heart
All things uncomely and broken, all things worn-out and old, The cry of a child by the roadway, the creak of a lumbering cart, The heavy steps of the ploughman, splashing the wintry mould, Are wronging your image that blossoms a rose in the deeps of my heart. The wrong of unshapely things is a wrong too great to be told; I hunger to build them anew and sit on a green knoll apart, With the earth and the sky and the water, remade, like a casket of gold For my dreams of your image that blossoms a rose in the deeps of my heart. William Butler Yeats Related Articles: The Rose of Sharon To Amarantha To Anthea To a Stranger To a Young Lady To Earthward To My Dear and Loving Husband To the Virgins, Make Much of Time  To our knowledge this poem is in the public domain. If you believe we have infringed any copyright laws please contact us and the offending material will be removed immediately.  The poetry on this site is for entertainment purposes only. See Full Disclaimer for more information. |
