When the flaming lute-thronged angelic door is wide;
When an immortal passion breathes in mortal clay;
Our hearts endure the scourge, the plaited thorns, the way
Crowded with bitter faces, the wounds in palm and side,
The vinegar-heavy sponge, the flowers by Kedron stream;
We will bend down and loosen our hair over you,
That it may drop faint perfume, and be heavy with dew,
Lilies of death-pale hope, roses of passionate dream.
The Travail Of Passion
William Butler Yeats
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Poem topics: death, dream, hair, hope, passion, wide, door, endure, bitter, sponge, stream, I love you, I miss you, heavy, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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