IF this importunate heart trouble your peace <br />With words lighter than air, <br />Or hopes that in mere hoping flicker and cease; <br />Crumple the rose in your hair; <br />And cover your lips with odorous twilight and say, <br />'O Hearts of wind-blown flame! <br />O Winds, older than changing of night and day, <br />That murmuring and longing came <br />From marble cities loud with tabors of old <br />In dove-grey faery lands; <br />From battle-banners, fold upon purple fold, <br />Queens wrought with glimmering hands; <br />That saw young Niamh hover with love-lorn face <br />Above the wandering tide; <br />And lingered in the hidden desolate place <br />Where the last Phoenix died, <br />And wrapped the flames above his holy head; <br />And still murmur and long: <br />O piteous Hearts, changing till change be dead <br />In a tumultuous song': <br />And cover the pale blossoms of your breast <br />With your dim heavy hair, <br />And trouble with a sigh for all things longing for rest <br />The odorous twilight there.<br /><br />William Butler Yeats<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-lover-asks-forgiveness-because-of-his-many-m/
