The Lover Tells of the Rose in His Heart
                                      William.B.Yeats
 
All things uncomely and broken , all things worn out and old .
The cry of a child by the roadway ,the creat of a lumbring cart .
The heavy steps of the ploughman , splashing the wintry mould .
Are wronging your image that blossoms a rose in the deeps of my heart .
 
The wrong of unshapely things is a wrong too great to be told ;
I hunger to build them anew and sit on a green knoll apart ,
With the earth and the sky and the water , re-made , like a casket of gold
For my dreams of your image that blossoms a rose in the deeps of my heart