Read "The Tower" by W.B. Yeats online for free on Textopian. Full text with search, annotations, highlights, and AI-powered reading aids.
Her present image floats into the mind-- Did Quattrocento finger fashion it Hollow of cheek as though it drank the wind And took a mess of shadows for its meat? And I though never of Ledaean kind Had pretty plumage once--enough of that, Better to smile on all that smile, and show There is a comfortable kind of old scarecrow.