Her Anxiety
William Butler Yeats
Earth in beauty dressed Awaits returning spring. All true love must die, Alter at the best Into some lesser thing. Prove that I lie. Such body lovers have, Such exacting breath, That they touch or sigh. Every touch they give, Love is nearer death. Prove that I lie.
4 comments:
I love you :)
I love you too.
-This poem blew me away.
It's a beautiful poem, but it doesn't hold a candle to how beautiful your words make me feel that I am seeing right now :)
How did you fix this to were you can now comment?
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