I will live in Ringsend With a red-headed whore, And the fan-light gone in Where it lights the hall-door; And listen each night For her querulous shout, As at last she streels in And the pubs empty out. To soothe that wild breast With my old-fangled songs, Till she feels it redressed From inordinate wrongs, Imagined, outrageous, Preposterous wrongs, Till peace at last comes, Shall be all I will do, Where the little lamp blooms Like a rose in the stew; And up the back-garden The sound comes to me Of the lapsing, unsoilable, Whispering sea. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SUNFLOWER, FR. SONGS OF EXPERIENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE MOTLEY: MUSIC by WALTER JOHN DE LA MARE A THUNDERSTORM IN TOWN by THOMAS HARDY THE GRASSHOPPER AND CRICKET by JOHN KEATS THE WOOD OF FLOWERS by JAMES STEPHENS BEAUREGARD by CATHERINE ANNE WARFIELD THE SORROW OF LOVE (1) by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS TO A FRIEND WHOSE WORK HAS COME TO NOTHING by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS |