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I bring you with reverent hands The books of my numberless dreams, White woman that passion has worn As the tide wears the dove-grey sands, And with heart more old than the horn That is brimmed from the pale fire of time: White woman with numberless dreams, I bring you my passionate rhyme.
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Mar 12, 2014
Mar 12, 2014 at 10:19 AM UTC
A poet to his beloved.
I bring you with reverent hands The books of my numberless dreams, White woman that passion has worn As the tide wears the dove-grey sands, And with heart more old than the horn That is brimmed from the pale fire of time: White woman with numberless dreams, I bring you my passionate rhyme.
-William Butler Yeats
rose-bud
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Mar 12, 2014
Mar 12, 2014 at 10:19 AM UTC
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