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Home  »  Poetry: A Magazine of Verse  »  William Butler Yeats

Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.

Fallen Majesty

William Butler Yeats

ALTHOUGH crowds gathered once if she but showed her face

And even old men’s eyes grew dim, this hand alone,

Like some last courtier at a gipsy camping place

Babbling of fallen majesty, records what’s gone.

The lineaments, the heart that laughter has made sweet,

These, these remain, but I record what’s gone. A crowd

Will gather and not know that through its very street

Once walked a thing that seemed, as it were, a burning cloud.