flow else but through a broken heart May Lord Christ enter in?

And he of the swollen purple throat,
And the stark and staring eyes
Waits for the holy hands that took
The Thief to Paradise;

And a broken and a contrite heart

The Lord will not despise.

The man in red who reads the Law
Gave him three weeks of life,
Three little weeks in which to heal
His soul of his soul's strife,

And cleanse from every blot of blood
The hand that held the knife.

620

630

WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS (1865- )

THE BALLAD OF THE FOX-
HUNTER1

"Now lay me in a cushioned chair
And carry me, you four,

With cushions here and cushions there,
To see the world once more.

And some one from the stables bring
My Dermot dear and brown,
And lead him gently in a ring,
And gently up and down.

"Now leave the chair upon the grass:

And with tears of blood he cleansed the Bring hound and huntsman here,

hand,

And I on this strange road will pass,
Fill full of ancient cheer."

His eyelids droop, his head falls low,
His old eyes cloud with dreams;
The sun upon all things that grow
Pours round in sleepy streams.

Brown Dermot treads upon the lawn,
And to the armchair goes,

10

And there, till Christ call forth the dead, The huntsman near him stands.