He Tells Of The Perfect Beauty

Poem By William Butler Yeats

O CLOUD-PALE eyelids, dream-dimmed eyes,
The poets labouring all their days
To build a perfect beauty in rhyme
Are overthrown by a woman's gaze
And by the unlabouring brood of the skies:
And therefore my heart will bow, when dew
Is dropping sleep, until God burn time,
Before the unlabouring stars and you.

Comments about He Tells Of The Perfect Beauty

Beautiful poetry. “Cloud-pale eye-lids” and “dream-dimmed eyes”.... such images speak to the heart of the reader directly and their aesthetic beauty is unparalleled.


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