(13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939 / County Dublin / Ireland)

A Poet To His Beloved

I BRING you with reverent hands
The books of my numberless dreams,
White woman that passion has worn
As the tide wears the dove-grey sands,
And with heart more old than the horn
That is brimmed from the pale fire of time:
White woman with numberless dreams,
I bring you my passionate rhyme.

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Comments (1)

The intimacy and tenderness with which the poet presents dreams to his beloved is mind blowing.