To The Rose Upon The Rood Of Time
William Butler Yeats 1865 (Sandymount) – 1939 (Menton)
Red Rose, proud Rose, sad Rose of all my days!
Come near me, while I sing the ancient ways:
Cuchulain battling with the bitter tide;
The Druid, grey, wood-nurtured, quiet-eyed,
Who cast round Fergus dreams, and ruin untold;
And thine own sadness, where of stars, grown old
In dancing silver-sandalled on the sea,
Sing in their high and lonely melody.
Come near, that no more blinded hy man's fate,
I find under the boughs of love and hate,
In all poor foolish things that live a day,
Eternal beauty wandering on her way.
Come near, come near, come near -- Ah, leave me still
A little space for the rose-breath to fill!
Lest I no more bear common things that crave;
The weak worm hiding down in its small cave,
The field-mouse running by me in the grass,
And heavy mortal hopes that toil and pass;
But seek alone to hear the strange things said
By God to the bright hearts of those long dead,
And learn to chaunt a tongue men do not know.
Come near; I would, before my time to go,
Sing of old Eire and the ancient ways:
Red Rose, proud Rose, sad Rose of all my days.
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on May 01, 2023
- 1:01 min read
- 133 Views
Quick analysis:
Scheme | AabbccddeeffgghhiijjkkaA |
---|---|
Closest metre | Iambic pentameter |
Characters | 1,050 |
Words | 204 |
Stanzas | 1 |
Stanza Lengths | 24 |
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"To The Rose Upon The Rood Of Time" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 7 May 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/39603/to-the-rose-upon-the-rood-of-time>.
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