He. Never until this night have I been stirred. <br />The elaborate starlight throws a reflection <br />On the dark stream, <br />Till all the eddies gleam; <br />And thereupon there comes that scream <br />From terrified, invisible beast or bird: <br />Image of poignant recollection. <br /> <br />She. An image of my heart that is smitten through <br />Out of all likelihood, or reason, <br />And when at last, <br />Youth's bitterness being past, <br />I had thought that all my days were cast <br />Amid most lovely places; smitten as though <br />It had not learned its lesson. <br /> <br />He. Why have you laid your hands upon my eyes? <br />What can have suddenly alarmed you <br />Whereon 'twere best <br />My eyes should never rest? <br />What is there but the slowly fading west, <br />The river imaging the flashing skies, <br />All that to this moment charmed you? <br /> <br />She. A Sweetheart from another life floats there <br />As though she had been forced to linger <br />From vague distress <br />Or arrogant loveliness, <br />Merely to loosen out a tress <br />Among the starry eddies of her hair <br />Upon the paleness of a finger. <br /> <br />He. But why should you grow suddenly afraid <br />And start -- I at your shoulder -- <br />Imagining <br />That any night could bring <br />An image up, or anything <br />Even to eyes that beauty had driven mad, <br />But images to make me fonder? <br /> <br />She. Now She has thrown her arms above her head; <br />Whether she threw them up to flout me, <br />Or but to find, <br />Now that no fingers bind, <br />That her hair streams upon the wind, <br />I do not know, that know I am afraid <br />Of the hovering thing night brought me.<br /><br />William Butler Yeats<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/an-image-from-a-past-life/
