HOW came this ranger
Now sunk in rest,
Stranger with stranger.
On my cold breast?
What's left to Sigh for?
Strange night has come;
God's love has hidden him
Out of all harm,
Pleasure has made him
Weak as a worm.
Back to William Butler Yeats
HOW came this ranger
Now sunk in rest,
Stranger with stranger.
On my cold breast?
What's left to Sigh for?
Strange night has come;
God's love has hidden him
Out of all harm,
Pleasure has made him
Weak as a worm.
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