THE TWO TREES
by: William Butler Yeats (1865-1939)
- ELOVED, gaze in thine own heart,
- The holy tree is growing there;
- From joy the holy branches start,
- And all the trembling flowers they bear.
- The changing colours of its fruit
- Have dowered the stars with merry light;
- The surety of its hidden root
- Has planted quiet in the night;
- The shaking of its leafy head
- Has given the waves their melody,
- And made my lips and music wed,
- Murmuring a wizard song for thee.
- There the Loves a circle go,
- The flaming circle of our days,
- Gyring, spiring to and fro
- In those great ignorant leafy ways;
- Remembering all that shaken hair
- And how the wingèd sandals dart,
- Thine eyes grow full of tender care:
- Beloved, gaze in thine own heart.
- Gaze no more in the bitter glass
- The demons, with their subtle guile,
- Lift up before us when they pass,
- Or only gaze a little while;
- For there a fatal image grows
- That the stormy night receives,
- Roots half hidden under snows,
- Broken boughs and blackened leaves.
- For all things turn to barrenness
- In the dim glass the demons hold,
- The glass of outer weariness,
- Made when God slept in times of old.
- There, through the broken branches, go
- The ravens of unresting thought;
- Flying, crying, to and fro,
- Cruel claw and hungry throat,
- Or else they stand and sniff the wind,
- And shake their ragged wings; alas!
- Thy tender eyes grow all unkind:
- Gaze no more in the bitter glass.
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