Verse > W.B. Yeats > The Wind Among the Reeds
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W.B. Yeats (1865–1939).  The Wind Among the Reeds.  1899.

30. Hanrahan laments because of his Wanderings


O WHERE is our Mother of Peace 
Nodding her purple hood? 
For the winds that awakened the stars 
Are blowing through my blood. 
I would that the death-pale deer         5
Had come through the mountain side, 
And trampled the mountain away, 
And drunk up the murmuring tide; 
For the winds that awakened the stars 
Are blowing through my blood,  10
And our Mother of Peace has forgot me 
Under her purple hood. 


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