(WB Yeats)



Behold the flashing waters

A cloven dancing jet,

That from the milk-white marble

For ever foam and fret;

Far off in drowsy valleys

Where the meadow saffrons blow,

The feet of summer dabble

In their coiling calm and slow.

The banks are worn forever

By a people sadly gay:

A Titan with loud laughter,

Made them of fire clay.

Go ask the springing flowers,

And the flowing air above,

What are the twin-born waters,

And they'll answer Death and Love.



With wreaths of withered flowers

Two lonely spirits wait

With wreaths of withered flowers

'Fore paradise's gate.

They may not pass the portal

Poor earth-enkindled pair,

Though sad is many a spirit

To pass and leave them there

Still staring at their flowers,

That dull and faded are.

If one should rise beside thee,

The other is not far.

Go ask the youngest angel,

She will say with bated breath,

By the door of Mary's garden

Are the spirits Love and Death.