Where My Books Go

All the words that I utter,
And all the words that I write,
Must spread out their wings untiring,
And never rest in their flight,
Till they come where your sad, sad heart is,
And sing to you in the night,
Beyond where the waters are moving,
Storm-darken’d or starry bright.

by William Butler Yeats

Comments (8)

Once again his blood-dimmed tide is loosed.
Mr Yeats was sad.Brilliantly expressed.
I love this, what a nice poem.
All the words that I utter, And all the words that I write, Must spread out their wings untiring, And never rest in their flight, love this :)
......so beautiful and speaks of real love★
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