The Mountain Tomb
William Butler Yeats
1865 to 1939
Pour wine and dance if Manhood still have pride,
Bring roses if the rose be yet in bloom;
The cataract smokes upon the mountain side,
Our Father Rosicross is in his tomb.
Pull down the blinds, bring fiddle and clarionet
That there be no foot silent in the room
Nor mouth from kissing, nor from wine unwet;
Our Father Rosicross is in his tomb.
In vain, in vain; the cataract still cries
The everlasting taper lights the gloom;
All wisdom shut into his onyx eyes
Our Father Rosicross sleeps in his tomb.
William Butler Yeats's The Mountain Tomb
I am busy working to bring William Butler Yeats's "The Mountain Tomb" to life through some unique musical arrangements and will have a full analysis of the poem here for you later.
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