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Poem by William Butler Yeats


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ALL things can tempt me from this craft of verse:
One time it was a woman's face, or worse --
The seeming needs of my fool-driven land;
Now nothing but comes readier to the hand
Than this accustomed toil. When I was young,
I had not given a penny for a song
Did not the poet Sing it with such airs
That one believed he had a sword upstairs;
Yet would be now, could I but have my wish,
Colder and dumber and deafer than a fish. 



William Butler Yeats


William Butler Yeats's other poems:
  1. Men Improve with the Years
  2. The Magi
  3. The Municipal Gallery Revisited
  4. Me Peacock
  5. Love's Loneliness


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