FictionForest

Hanrahan Laments Because of his Wanderings

William Butler YeatsApr 22, 2018'Command+D' Bookmark this page

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O where is our Mother of Peace

Nodding her purple hood?

For the winds that awakened the stars

Are blowing through my blood.

I would that the death-pale deer

Had come through the mountain side,

And trampled the mountain away,

And drunk up the murmuring tide;

For the winds that awakened the stars

Are blowing through my blood,

And our Mother of Peace has forgot me

Under her purple hood.

 

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