I HAVE heard the pigeons of the Seven Woods <br />Make their faint thunder, and the garden bees <br />Hum in the lime-tree flowers; and put away <br />The unavailing outcries and the old bitterness <br />That empty the heart. I have forgot awhile <br />Tara uprooted, and new commonness <br />Upon the throne and crying about the streets <br />And hanging its paper flowers from post to post, <br />Because it is alone of all things happy. <br />I am contented, for I know that Quiet <br />Wanders laughing and eating her wild heart <br />Among pigeons and bees, while that Great Archer, <br />Who but awaits His hour to shoot, still hangs <br />A cloudy quiver over Pairc-na-lee.<br /><br />William Butler Yeats<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/in-the-seven-woods/
