The Cold Heaven

W. B. Yeats(1865–1939)

1912

Suddenly I saw the cold and rook-delighting HeavenThat seemed as though ice burned and was but the more ice,And thereupon imagination and heart were drivenSo wild that every casual thought of that and thisVanished, and left but memories, that should be out of seasonWith the hot blood of youth, of love crossed long ago;And I took all the blame out of all sense and reason,Until I cried and trembled and rocked to and fro,Riddled with light. Ah! when the ghost begins to quicken,

Confusion of the death-bed over, is it sentOut naked on the roads, as the books say, and strickenBy the injustice of the skies for punishment?

From Responsibilities by W. B. Yeats, via the English Wikisource transcription.

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