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PoemsByWilliamsB.YeatsADAM'SCURSEWEsattogetheratonesummer'send,Thatbeautifulmildwoman,yourclosefriend,AndyouandI,andtalkedofpoetry.Isaid,Alinewilltakeushoursmaybe;Yetifitdoesnotseemamoment'sthought,Ourstitchingandunstitchinghasbeennaught.Bettergodownuponyourmarrow-bonesAndscrubakitchenpavement,orbreakstonesLikeanoldpauper,inallkindsofweather;FortoarticulatesweetsoundstogetherIstoworkharderthanallthese,andyetBethoughtanidlerbythenoisysetOfbankers,schoolmasters,andclergymenThemartyrscalltheworld.'AndthereuponThatbeautifulmildwomanforwhosesakeThere'smanyaoneshallfindoutallheartacheOnfindingthathervoiceissweetandlowReplied,Tobebornwomanistoknow--Althoughtheydonottalkofitatschool--Thatwemustlabourtobebeautiful.'Isaid,It'scertainthereisnofinethingSinceAdam'sfallbutneedsmuchlabouring.TherehavebeenloverswhothoughtloveshouldbeSomuchcompoundedofhighcourtesyThattheywouldsighandquotewithlearnedlooksprecedentsoutofbeautifuloldbooks;Yetnowitseemsanidletradeenough.'Wesatgrownquietatthenameoflove;Wesawthelastembersofdaylightdie,Andinthetremblingblue-greenoftheskyAmoon,wornasifithadbeenashellWashedbytime'swatersastheyroseandfellAboutthestarsandbrokeindaysandyears.Ihadathoughtfornoone'sbutyourears:Thatyouwerebeautiful,andthatIstroveToloveyouintheoldhighwayoflove;Thatithadallseemedhappy,andyetwe'dgrownAsweary-heartedasthathollowmoon.INMEMORYOFALFREDPOLLEXFENFIVE-AND-TWENTYyearshavegoneSinceoldWilliampollexfenLaidhisstrongbonesdownindeathByhiswifeElizabethInthegreystonetombhemade.AndaftertwentyyearstheylaidInthattombbyhimandherHissonGeorge,theastrologer;AndMasonsdrovefrommilesawayToscattertheAcaciasprayUponamelancholymanWhohadendedwherehisbreathbegan.ManyasonanddaughterliesFarfromthecustomaryskies,TheMallandEades'sgrammarschool,InLondonorinLiverpool;ButwhereislaidthesailorJohnThatsomanylandshadknown,QuietlandsorunquietseasWheretheIndianstradeorJapanese?Heneverfoundhisrestashore,Mopingforonevoyagemore.WherehavetheylaidthesailorJohn?Andyesterdaytheyoungestson,Ahumorous,unambitiousman,Wasburiedneartheastrologer,YesterdayinthetenthyearSincehewhohadbeencontentedlong.Anobodyinagreatthrong,Decidedhewouldjourneyhome,Nowthathisfiftiethyearhadcome,AndMr.Alfred'beagainUponthelipsofcommonmenWhocarriedintheirmemoryHischildhoodandhisfamily.Atallthesedeath-bedswomenheardAvisionarywhitesea-birdLamentingthatamanshoulddie;AndwiththatcryIhaveraisedmycry.ALLSOULS'NIGHTi{EpiloguetoAVision'}MIDNIGHThascome,andthegreatChristChurchBellAndmayalesserbellsoundthroughtheroom;AnditisAllSouls'Night,AndtwolongglassesbrimmedwithmuscatelBubbleuponthetable.Aghostmaycome;Foritisaghost'sright,HiselementissofineBeingsharpenedbyhisdeath,Todrinkfromthewine-breathWhileourgrosspalatesdrinkfromthewholewine.Ineedsomemindthat,ifthecannonsoundFromeveryquarteroftheworld,canstayWoundinmind'sponderingAsmummiesinthemummy-clotharewound;BecauseIhaveamarvellousthingtosay,AcertainmarvellousthingNonebutthelivingmock,Thoughnotforsoberear;ItmaybeallthathearShouldlaughandweepanhourupontheclock.Horton'sthefirstIcall.HelovedstrangethoughtAndknewthatsweetextremityofprideThat'scalledplatoniclove,AndthattosuchapitchofpassionwroughtNothingcouldbringhim,whenhisladydied,Anodyneforhislove.Wordswerebutwastedbreath;Onedearhopehadhe:TheinclemencyOfthatorthenextwinterwouldbedeath.TwothoughtsweresomixedupIcouldnottellWhetherofherorGodhethoughtthemost,Butthinkthathismind'seye,Whenupwardturned,ononesoleimagefell;Andthataslightcompanionableghost,Wildwithdivinity,HadsolitupthewholeImmensemiraculoushouseTheBiblepromisedus,Itseemedagold-fishswimminginabowl.OnFlorenceEmeryIcallthenext,WhofindingthefirstwrinklesonafaceAdmiredandbeautiful,AndknowingthatthefuturewouldbevexedWith'minishedbeauty,multipliedcommonplace,preferredtoteachaschoolAwayfromneighbourorfriend,Amongdarkskins,andtherepermitfoulyearstowearHiddenfromeyesighttotheunnoticedend.BeforethatendmuchhadsheravelledoutFromadiscourseinfigurativespeechBysomelearnedIndianOnthesoul'sjourney.Howitiswhirledabout,Wherevertheorbitofthemooncanreach,Untilitplungeintothesun;Andthere,freeandyetfast,BeingbothChanceandChoice,ForgetitsbrokentoysAndsinkintoitsowndelightatlast.AndIcallupMacGregorfromthegrave,Forinmyfirsthardspringtimewewerefriends.Althoughoflateestranged.Ithoughthimhalfalunatic,halfknave,Andtoldhimso,butfriendshipneverends;Andwhatifmindseemchanged,Anditseemchangedwiththemind,WhenthoughtsriseupunbidOngenerousthingsthathedidAndIgrowhalfcontentedtobeblind!Hehadmuchindustryatsettingout,Muchboisterouscourage,beforelonelinessHaddrivenhimcrazed;FormeditationsuponunknownthoughtMakehumanintercoursegrowlessandless;Theyareneitherpaidnorpraised.buthedobjecttothehost,Theglassbecausemyglass;Aghost-loverhewasAndmayhavegrownmorearrogantbeingaghost.Butnamesarenothing.Whatmatterwhoitbe,SothathiselementshavegrownsofineThefumeofmuscatelCangivehissharpenedpalateecstasyNolivingmancandrinkfromthewholewine.IhavemummytruthstotellWhereatthelivingmock,Thoughnotforsoberear,FormaybeallthathearShouldlaughandweepanhourupontheclock.Suchthought--suchthoughthaveIthatholdittightTillm