THESE ARE THE CLOUDS

by: W. B. Yeats (1865-1939)

      HESE are the clouds about the fallen sun,
      The majesty that shuts his burning eye:
      The weak lay hand on what the strong has done,
      Till that be tumbled that was lifted high
      And discord follow upon unison,
      And all things at one common level lie.
      And therefore, friend, if your great race were run
      And these things came, so much the more thereby
      Have you made greatness your companion,
      Although it be for children that you sigh:
      These are the clouds about the fallen sun,
      The majesty that shuts his burning eye.

"These Are the Clouds" is reprinted from The Green Helmet and Other Poems. W.B. Yeats. Dundrum: Cuala Press, 1910.

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