November Yeats 18


‘The dews drop slowly and dreams gather;’ —W.B. Yeats


I walked at dawn with a silver cup

and hoped that I might see my love

in the crystal dew


I gathered dreams in a dark bouquet,

to weave a net to make him stay,

and love me too


I dream I hold him in my arms

with his wild blue eyes and all his charms

When I am sleeping,


But my love has spilt the crystal dew

And torn all of my dreams in two

and left me weeping


I’ve missed a couple of days BUT IT DOESN’T MATTER – because this is just a lovely way of spending time in November. Pure pleasure, no pressure. Thank you, Jane, for another lovely prompt. 


4 thoughts on “November Yeats 18

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