Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, TO W. B. YEATS, by JOHN COWPER POWYS


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

TO W. B. YEATS, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Wreathless of laurel plucked by delian springs
Last Line: Where thy own rose reigns queen of all the air.
Subject(s): Flowers; Heaven; Poetry & Poets; Praise; Temples; Yeats, William Butler (1865-1939); Paradise; Mosques


Wreathless of laurel plucked by Delian springs
Art thou, sweet Druid of these latter days;
Thou dost not build the temple of thy praise
On popular clamour or the gold of kings,
But Nature, thy own mother, Nature wild
And tameless as she was when woods were free
To elfin feet and fairy minstrelsy,
Crowns thee her twilight-haunted laureat child.
Waste shores where only winged moonbeams dwell,
Dim groves where flowers feed on dews enchanted,
Sea caves where tressed creatures twine their hair,
These are the kingdoms of thy Keltic spell,
A snakeless Paradise by Poet planted,
Where thy own Rose reigns Queen of all the air.





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