O, but the mockers’ cry
makes my heart afraid,
as though a flute of bone
taken from a heron’s thigh,
a heron crazed by the moon,
were cleverly, softly played.
~ W.B Yeats, 1921.
-
propertieser liked this
-
solutions56gh liked this
-
techniquesui85 liked this
-
violence258go liked this
-
likeitio90 liked this
-
angryinitials reblogged this from truetothebone
-
truetothebone reblogged this from throughthenoisetothesea
-
paperlesswords liked this
-
nickthejam liked this
-
throughthenoisetothesea posted this
