Ah, Beloved Love

A POET TO HIS BELOVED
by: William Butler Yeats (1865-1939)

BRING you with reverent hands
The books of my numberless dreams,
White woman that passion has worn
As the tide wears the dove-grey sands,
And with heart more old than the horn
That is brimmed from the pale fire of time:
White woman with numberless dreams,
I bring you my passionate rhyme

THE SORROW OF LOVE
by: W.B. Yeats

HE quarrel of the sparrows in the eaves,
The full round moon and the star-laden sky,
And the loud song of the ever-singing leaves,
Had hid away earth's old and weary cry.

And then you came with those red mournful lips,
And with you came the whole of the world's tears,
And all the sorrows of her labouring ships,
And all the burden of her myriad years.

And now the sparrows warring in the eaves,
The curd-pale moon, the white stars in the sky,
And the loud chaunting of the unquiet leaves
Are shaken with earth's old and weary cry.

Have you ever read something that struck a chord within your heart? I've been trying to find a bit of stress relief and have discovered poetry. Some of the poems that I've read, I really enjoyed and others, perplex me. I guess one of the joys of poetry is the discovery of what means something to you, and, as I am finding, it is definitely a learning experience and journey to savor...

I like both of the poems above - for different and many reasons. Both are poems of love - yet are very different. Was Yeats speaking of his true love, his love of country, or something mysterious that those reading cannot imagine? The more I read, the more questions I have... but best of all, I learn.