Explore "Michael Robartes and The Dancer" by W.B. Yeats on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
He. Never until this night have I been stirred. The elaborate star-light has thrown reflections On the dark stream, Till all the eddies gleam; And thereupon there comes that scream From terrified, invisible beast or bird: Image of poignant recollection.
She. An image of my heart that is smitten through Out of all likelihood, or reason, And when at last, Youth's bitterness being past, I had thought that all my days were cast Amid most lovely places; smitten as though It had not learned its lesson.