Explore "In the Seven Woods" by W.B. Yeats on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
I have heard the pigeons of the Seven Woods / Make their faint thunder, and the garden bees / Hum in the lime tree flowers; and put away / The unavailing outcries and the old bitterness / That empty the heart. I have forgot awhile / Tara uprooted, and new commonness / Upon the throne and crying about the streets / And hanging its paper flowers from post to post, / Because it is alone of all things happy.
I am contented for I know that Quiet / Wanders laughing and eating her wild heart / Among pigeons and bees, while that Great Archer, / Who but awaits His hour to shoot, still hangs / A cloudy quiver over Parc-na-Lee.