Laughter not time destroyed my voice
And put that crack in it,
And when the moons pot-bellied
I get a laughing fit,
For that old Madge comes down the lane,
A stone upon her breast,
And a cloak wrapped about the stone,
And she can get no rest
With singing hush and hush-a-bye;
She that has been wild
And barren as a breaking wave
Thinks that the stones a child.
And Peter that had great affairs
And was a pushing man
Shrieks, I am King of the Peacocks,
And perches on a stone;
And then I laugh till tears run down
And the heart thumps at my side,
Remembering that her shriek was love
And that he shrieks from pride.
A Man Young And Old:- The Friends Of His Youth
William Butler Yeats
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