Explore "Michael Robartes and The Dancer" by W.B. Yeats on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
For certain minutes at the least That crafty demon and that loud beast That plague me day and night Ran out of my sight; Though I had long pernned in the gyre, Between my hatred and desire, I saw my freedom won And all laugh in the sun.
The glittering eyes in a death's head Of old Luke Wadding's portrait said Welcome, and the Ormonds all Nodded upon the wall, And even Stafford smiled as though It made him happier to know I understood his plan; Now that the loud beast ran There was no portrait in the Gallery But beckoned to sweet company, For all men's thoughts grew clear Being dear as mine are dear.