Corpus of Electronic Texts Edition

Meditations in Time of Civil War (Author: William Butler Yeats)

part 3

My Table

1. Two heavy trestles, and a board
   Where Sato's gift, a changeless sword,
   By pen and paper lies,
   That it may moralise
   My days out of their aimlessness.
   A bit of an embroidered dress
   Covers its wooden sheath.
   Chaucer had not drawn breath
   When it was forged. In Sato's house,
   Curved like new moon, moon-luminous
   It lay five hundred years.
   Yet if no change appears
   No moon; only an aching heart
   Conceives a changeless work of art.
   Our learned men have urged
   That when and where 'twas forged
   A marvellous accomplishment,
   In painting or in pottery, went
   From father unto son
   And through the centuries ran
   And seemed unchanging like the sword.
   Soul's beauty being most adored,
   Men and their business took
   Me soul's unchanging look;
   For the most rich inheritor,
   Knowing that none could pass Heaven's door,

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   p.21

   That loved inferior art,
   Had such an aching heart
   That he, although a country's talk
   For silken clothes and stately walk.
   Had waking wits; it seemed
   Juno's peacock screamed.