W. B. Yeats

“ Yourself.
Mosada. None but the innocent can see.
Cola. They say I am all ugliness; lame-footed
I am; one shoulder turned awry—why then
Should I be good? But you are beautiful.
Mosada. I cannot see.
Cola.The beetles, and the bats,
And spiders, are my friends, I'm theirs, and they are
Not good; but you are like the butterflies.
Mosada. I cannot see! I cannot see! but you
Shall see a thing to talk on when you're old,
Under a lemon tree beside your door;
And all the elders sitting in the sun,
Will wondering listen, and this tale shall ease
For long, the burthen of their talking griefs. ”

“ A few faint stars
are shining. Swallows are circling in the dimness without.
Mosada. Oh! swallows, swallows, swallows, will ye fly
This eve, to-morrow, or to-morrow night
Above the farm-house by the little lake
That's rustling in the reeds with patient pushes,
Soft as a long dead footstep whispering through
The brain. My brothers will be passing down
Quite soon the cornfield, where the poppies grow,
To their farm-work; how silent all will be. ”

“ Pours up and floats in fragrance o'er my head
In coil on coil of azure.
[Enter Cola.] All is ready.
Cola. Mosada, it is then so much the worse.
I will not share your sin.
Mosada.It is no sin
That you shall see on yonder glowing cloud
Pictured, where wander the beloved feet
Whose footfall I have longed for, three sad summers—
Why these new fears?
Cola.The servant of the Lord,
The dark still man, has come, and says 'tis sin.
Mosada. They say the wish itself is half the sin. ”