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

37. Mongan thinks of his past Greatness


I HAVE drunk ale from the Country of the Young 
And weep because I know all things now: 
I have been a hazel tree and they hung 
The Pilot Star and the Crooked Plough 
Among my leaves in times out of mind:         5
I became a rush that horses tread: 
I became a man, a hater of the wind, 
Knowing one, out of all things, alone, that his head 
Would not lie on the breast or his lips on the hair 
Of the woman that he loves, until he dies;  10
Although the rushes and the fowl of the air 
Cry of his love with their pitiful cries. 


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