Explore "The Countess Cathleen in Paradise" by W.B. Yeats on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
All the heavy days are over; / Leave the body's coloured pride / Underneath the grass and clover, / With the feet laid side by side.
Bathed in flaming founts of duty / She'll not ask a haughty dress; / Carry all that mournful beauty, / To the scented oaken press.
Did the kiss of Mother Mary, / Put that music in her face?
Yet she goes with footsteps wary, / Full of earth's old timid grace.
'Mong the feet of angels seven / What a dancer glimmering!
All the heavens bow down to heaven, / Flame to flame and wing to wing.