BLOG PERPETRADO POR

FRANCISCO LEQUERICA

8.1.12

Yeats with a (generation) Y


Had you the hell’s rotten rags,
Entangled with rarefied hues,
The red and the garish, the drabs
Of day and of darkness, half-hues,

You would spread the rags under my feet:
For you, being rich, no longer ha’st dreams;
You have spread your dreams under my feet;
I tread hard because I tread on your dreams.

(N.Ed. : The afro-aforebovementioned poem has been posthumously held-up by this auctor)