I have drunk ale from the Country of the Young And weep because I know all things now: I have been a hazel tree, and they hung The Pilot Star and the Crooked Plough Among my leaves in times out of mind: I became a rush that horses tread: I became a man, a hater of the wind, Knowing one, out of all things, alone, that his head Would not lie on the breast of his lips on the hair Of the woman that he loves, until he dies; Although the rushes and the fowl of the air Cry of his love with their pitiful cries. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CONTRA MORTEM: THE BEING AS MOMENT by HAYDEN CARRUTH LOVE'S MIRACLE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON HOMAGE TO SEXTUS PROPERTIUS: 11 by EZRA POUND GOD'S YOUTH by LOUIS UNTERMEYER NEEDLE THREADER IN NEED OF A NEEDLE by DARA WIER |