I

    sy -

    O , O troubled  - ture,

    Decrepit age t ied to me

    As to a dogs tail?

    Never had I more

    Excited, passionate, fantastical

    Imagination, nor an ear and eye

    t more expected the impossible -

    No, not in boyh rod and fly,

    Or the humbler worm, I climbed Ben Bulbens back

    And o spend.

    It seems t I must bid the Muse go pack,

    Co and Plotinus for a friend

    Until imagination, ear and eye,

    Can be content  and deal

    In abstract things; or be derided by

    A sort of battered kettle at the heel.

    II

    I pace upon ttlements and stare

    On tions of a house, or where

    tree, like a sooty finger, starts from th;

    And send imagination forth

    Under the days declining beam, and call

    Images and memories

    From ruin or from ancient trees,

    For I ion of them all.

    Beyond t ridge lived Mrs. French, and once

    ick or sconce

    Lit up the wine.

    A serving-man, t could divine

    t most respected ladys every wish,

    Ran and he garden shears

    Clipped an insolent farmers ears

    And brougtle covered dish.

    Some feill when I was young

    A peasant girl commended by a Song,

    rocky place,

    And praised the colour of her face,

    And er joy in praising her,

    Remembering t, if walked shere,

    Farmers jostled at the fair

    So great a glory did the song confer.

    And certain men, being maddened by those rhymes,

    Or else by toasting imes,

    Rose from table and declared it right

    to test t;

    But took tness of the moon

    For t of day -

    Music s astray -

    And one  bog of Cloone.

    Strange, but the song was blind;

    Yet, now I , I find

    t notrange; tragedy began

    it was a blind man,

    And s betrayed.

    O may t seem

    One inextricable beam,

    For if I triump make men mad.

    And I myself created hanrahan

    And drove he dawn

    From somewtages.

    Caught by an old mans juggleries

    umbled, tumbled, fumbled to and fro

    And  broken knees for hire

    And horrible splendour of desire;

    I t it all out ty years ago:

    Good fellows shuffled cards in an old bawn;

    And  ruffians turn was on

    chumb

    t all but the one card became

    A pack of  a pack of cards,

    And t o a hare.

    here

    And folloures towards -

    O toen w - enough!

    I must recall a man t neither love

    Nor music nor an enemys clipped ear

    Could, he was so harried, cheer;

    A figure t has grown so fabulous

    t a neig to say

    hen he finished his dogs day:

    An ancient bankrupt master of this house.

    Before t ruin came, for centuries,

    Roug-arms, cross-gartered to the knees

    Or sairs,

    And certain men-at-arms there were

    Memory stored,

    Come ing breast

    to break upon a sleepers rest

    on the board.

    As I ion all, come all who can;

    Come old, necessitous. ed man;

    And bring beautys blind rambling celebrant;

    t

    through God-forsaken meadows; Mrs. French,

    Gifted h so fine an ear;

    the man drowned in a bogs mire,

    ry wench.

    Did all old men and women, rich and poor,

    rod upon this door,

    rage

    As I do no old age?

    But I hose eyes

    t are impatient to be gone;

    Go t leave hanrahan,

    For I need all y memories.

    Old lech a love on every wind,

    Bring up out of t deep considering mind

    All t you he grave,

    For it is certain t you have

    Reckoned up every unforeknown, unseeing

    plunge, lured by a softening eye,

    Or by a touch or a sigh,

    Into thers being;

    Does tion d

    Upon a ?

    If on t, admit you turned aside

    From a great labyrint of pride,

    Cole t

    Or anything called conscience once;

    And t if memory recur, the suns

    Under eclipse and tted out.

    III

    It is time t I e my will;

    I canding men

    t climb treams until

    tain leap, and at dawn

    Drop t at the side

    Of dripping stone; I declare

    t my pride,

    t were

    Bound neito Cause nor to State.

    Neito slaves t  on,

    Nor to tyrants t spat,

    ttan

    t gave, to refuse -

    pride, like t of the morn,

    is loose,

    Or t of the fabulous horn,

    Or t of the sudden shower

    reams are dry,

    Or t of the hour

    fix his eye

    Upon a fading gleam,

    Float out upon a long

    Last reactering stream

    And t song.

    And I declare my faith:

    I mock plotinus t

    And cry in platos teeth,

    Deat

    till man made up the whole,

    Made lock, stock and barrel

    Out of ter soul,

    Aye, sun and moon and star, all,

    And furto t

    t, being dead, we rise,

    Dream and so create

    translunar paradise.

    I have prepared my peace

    italian things

    And tones of Greece,

    Poets imaginings

    And memories of love,

    Memories of the words of women,

    All things whereof

    Man makes a superhuman,

    Mirror-resembling dream.

    As at there

    tter and scream,

    And drop twigs layer upon layer.

    ed up,

    t

    On top,

    And so warm .

    I leave both and pride

    to young upstanding men

    Climbing tain-side,

    t under bursting dawn

    they may drop a fly;

    Being of t metal made

    till it was broken by

    tary trade.

    Now shall I make my soul,

    Compelling it to study

    In a learned school

    till the wreck of body,

    Slow decay of blood,

    testy delirium

    Or dull decrepitude,

    Or w worse evil come -

    th

    Of every brilliant eye

    t made a catch - .

    Seem but the sky

    he horizon fades;

    Or a birds sleepy cry

    Among the deepening shades.