Page:The Land of Heart's Desire, Yeats, 1894.djvu/18

10 We would be deafened by her groans and moans

Had she to work as some do, Father Hart,

Get up at dawn like me, and mend and scour;

Or ride abroad in the boisterous night like you,

The pyx and blessed bread under your arm.

.

You are too cross.

.

The young side with the young.

.

She quarrels with my wife a bit at times,

And is too deep just now in the old book;

But do not blame her greatly; she will grow

As quiet as a puff-ball in a tree

When but the moons of marriage dawn and die

For half a score of times.

.

Their hearts are wild

As be the hearts of birds, till children come.