Hanrahan speaks to the Lovers of his Songs in coming Days

William Butler Yeats - Non-Music, Lyric Poem (Literature)
Hanrahan speaks to the Lovers of his Songs in coming Days
2 Plays
Lyrics
O, colleens, kneeling by your altar rails long hence, When songs I wove for my beloved hide the prayer, And smoke from this dead heart drifts through the violet air And covers away the smoke of myrrh and frankincense; Bend down and pray for the great sin I wove in song, Till Maurya of the wounded heart cry a sweet cry, And call to my beloved and me: 'No longer fly 'Amid the hovering, piteous, penitential throng.'
Rate this song
0/5.0 - 0 Ratings
5
0.0% (0)
4
0.0% (0)
3
0.0% (0)
2
0.0% (0)
1
0.0% (0)
Loading comments...
Credits
- Writers
- William Butler Yeats