Aedh Tells of the Perfect Beauty, by William Butler Yeats

Aedh Tells of the Perfect Beauty

O cloud-pale eyelids, dream-dimmed eyes,The poets labouring all their daysTo build a perfect beauty in rhymeAre overthrown by a woman’s gazeAnd by the unlabouring brood of the skies:And therefore my heart will bow, when dewIs dropping sleep, until God burn time,Before the unlabouring stars and you.

poems.one - William Butler Yeats

William Butler Yeats