Paudeen
Indignant at the fumbling wits, the obscure spite Of our old Paudeen in his shop, I stumbled blind Among the stones and thorn trees, under morning light; Until a curlew cried and in the luminous wind A curlew answered; and suddenly thereupon I thought That on the lonely height where all are in Gods eye, There cannot be, confusion of our sound forgot, A single soul that lacks a sweet crystaline cry.
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"Indignant at the fumbling wits, the obscure spite..."
William Butler Yeats's contribution to classic is further solidified by the brilliance found in "Paudeen"... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...