Running To Paradise
William Butler Yeats 1865 (Sandymount) – 1939 (Menton)
As I came over Windy Gap
They threw a halfpenny into my cap.
For I am running to paradise;
And all that I need do is to wish
And somebody puts his hand in the dish
To throw me a bit of salted fish:
And there the king is but as the beggar.
My brother Mourteen is worn out
With skelping his big brawling lout,
And I am running to paradise;
A poor life, do what he can,
And though he keep a dog and a gun,
A serving-maid and a serving-man:
And there the king is but as the beggar.
Poor men have grown to be rich men,
And rich men grown to be poor again,
And I am running to paradise;
And many a darling wit's grown dull
That tossed a bare heel when at school,
Now it has filled a old sock full:
And there the king is but as the beggar.
The wind is old and still at play
While I must hurty upon my way.
For I am running to paradise;
Yet never have I lit on a friend
To take my fancy like the wind
That nobody can buy or bind:
And there the king is but as the beggar.
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 07, 2023
- 1:02 min read
- 163 Views
Quick analysis:
Scheme | aaBcccD eeBfxfD ggBxxxD hhBxiiD |
---|---|
Closest metre | Iambic tetrameter |
Characters | 943 |
Words | 208 |
Stanzas | 4 |
Stanza Lengths | 7, 7, 7, 7 |
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"Running To Paradise" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 29 Mar. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/39420/running-to-paradise>.
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