Into The Twilight
OUT-WORN heart, in a time out-worn,
 Come clear of the nets of wrong and right;
 Laugh, heart, again in the grey twilight,
 Sigh, heart, again in the dew of the morn.

 Your mother Eire is aways young,
 Dew ever shining and twilight grey;
 Though hope fall from you and love decay,
 Burning in fires of a slanderous tongue.

 Come, heart, where hill is heaped upon hill:
 For there the mystical brotherhood
 Of sun and moon and hollow and wood
 And river and stream work out their will;

 And God stands winding His lonely horn,
 And time and the world are ever in flight;
 And love is less kind than the grey twilight,
 And hope is less dear than the dew of the morn.

By William Butler Yeats


 

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