THE Danaan children laugh, in cradles of wrought gold, <br />And clap their hands together, and half close their eyes, <br />For they will ride the North when the ger-eagle flies, <br />With heavy whitening wings, and a heart fallen cold: <br />I kiss my wailing child and press it to my breast, <br />And hear the narrow graves calling my child and me. <br />Desolate winds that cry over the wandering sea; <br />Desolate winds that hover in the flaming West; <br />Desolate winds that beat the doors of Heaven, and beat <br />The doors of Hell and blow there many a whimpering ghost; <br />O heart the winds have shaken, the unappeasable host <br />Is comelier than candles at Mother Mary's feet.<br /><br />William Butler Yeats<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-unappeasable-host/
