THREE old hermits took the air <br />By a cold and desolate sea, <br />First was muttering a prayer, <br />Second rummaged for a flea; <br />On a windy stone, the third, <br />Giddy with his hundredth year, <br />Sang unnoticed like a bird: <br />'Though the Door of Death is near <br />And what waits behind the door, <br />Three times in a single day <br />I, though upright on the shore, <br />Fall asleep when I should pray.' <br />So the first, but now the second: <br />'We're but given what we have eamed <br />When all thoughts and deeds are reckoned, <br />So it's plain to be discerned <br />That the shades of holy men <br />Who have failed, being weak of will, <br />Pass the Door of Birth again, <br />And are plagued by crowds, until <br />They've the passion to escape.' <br />Moaned the other, 'They are thrown <br />Into some most fearful shape.' <br />But the second mocked his moan: <br />'They are not changed to anything, <br />Having loved God once, but maybe <br />To a poet or a king <br />Or a witty lovely lady.' <br />While he'd rummaged rags and hair, <br />Caught and cracked his flea, the third, <br />Giddy with his hundredth year, <br />Sang unnoticed like a bird.<br /><br />William Butler Yeats<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-three-hermits/
