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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=329352" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Prayer for my Daughter</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Once more the storm is howling and half hid<br>Under this cradle-hood and coverlid<br>My child sleeps on. There is no obstacle<br>But Gregory's Wood and one bare hill<br>Whereby the haystack and roof-levelling wind,<br>Bred on the Atlantic, can be stayed;<br>And for an hour I have walked and prayed<br>Because of the great gloom that is in my mind.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I have walked and prayed for this young child an hour<br>And heard the sea-wind scream upon the tower,<br>And under the arches of the bridge, and scream<br>In the elms above the flooded stream;<br>Imagining in excited reverie<br>That the future years had come,<br>Dancing to a frenzied drum,<br>Out of the murderous innocence of the sea.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">May she be granted beauty and yet not<br>Beauty to make a stranger's eye distraught,<br>Or hers before a looking-glass, for such,<br>Being made beautiful overmuch,<br>Consider beauty a sufficient end,<br>Lose natural kindness and maybe<br>The heart-revealing intimacy<br>That chooses right and never find a friend.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Helen being chosen found life flat and dull<br>And later had much trouble from a fool,<br>While that great Queen, that rose out of the spray,<br>Being fatherless could have her way<br>Yet chose a bandy-legged smith for man.<br>It's certain that fine women eat<br>A crazy salad with their meat<br>Whereby the Horn of Plenty is undone.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In courtesy I'd have her chiefly learned;<br>Hearts are not had as a gift but hearts are earned<br>By those that are not entirely beautiful;<br>Yet many, that have played the fool<br>For beauty's very self, has charm made wise,<br>And many a poor man that has roved,<br>Loved and thought himself beloved,<br>>From a glad kindness cannot take his eyes.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">May she become a flourishing hidden tree<br>That all her thoughts may like the linnet be,<br>And have no business but dispensing round<br>Their magnanimities of sound,<br>Nor but in merriment begin a chase,<br>Nor but in merriment a quarrel.<br>Oh, may she live like some green laurel<br>Rooted in one dear perpetual place.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My mind, because the minds that I have loved,<br>The sort of beauty that I have approved,<br>Prosper but little, has dried up of late,<br>Yet knows that to be choked with hate<br>May well be of all evil chances chief.<br>If there's no hatred in a mind<br>Assault and battery of the wind<br>Can never tear the linnet from the leaf.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">An intellectual hatred is the worst,<br>So let her think opinions are accursed.<br>Have I not seen the loveliest woman born<br>Out of the mouth of Plenty's horn,<br>Because of her opinionated mind<br>Barter that horn and every good<br>By quiet natures understood<br>For an old bellows full of angry wind?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Considering that, all hatred driven hence,<br>The soul recovers radical innocence<br>And learns at last that it is self-delighting,<br>Self-appeasing, self-affrighting,<br>And that its own sweet will is heaven's will;<br>She can, though every face should scowl<br>And every windy quarter howl<br>Or every bellows burst, be happy still.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And may her bride-groom bring her to a house<br>Where all's accustomed, ceremonious;<br>For arrogance and hatred are the wares<br>Peddled in the thoroughfares.<br>How but in custom and in ceremony<br>Are innocence and beauty born?<br>Ceremony's a name for the rich horn,<br>And custom for the spreading laurel tree.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=William+Butler+Yeats">William Butler Yeats</a> from <i>Michael Robartes and the Dancer</i><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=329352" data-title="A Prayer for my Daughter de William Butler Yeats" data-description="Once more the storm is howling and half hid/Under this cradle-hood and coverlid/My child sleeps on. There is no obstacle/But Gregory's Wood and one bare hill/Whereby the haystack and roof-levelling wind,/Bred on the Atlantic, can be stayed;/And fo..."></div>
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