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Home  »  Responsibilities and Other Poems  »  17. The Player Queen

W.B. Yeats (1865–1939). Responsibilities and Other Poems. 1916.

17. The Player Queen

(Song from an Unfinished Play)

MY mother dandled me and sang,

‘How young it is, how young!’

And made a golden cradle

That on a willow swung.

‘He went away,’ my mother sang,

‘When I was brought to bed,’

And all the while her needle pulled

The gold and silver thread.

She pulled the thread and bit the thread

And made a golden gown,

And wept because she had dreamt that I

Was born to wear a crown.

‘When she was got,’ my mother sang,

‘I heard a sea-mew cry,

And saw a flake of the yellow foam

That dropped upon my thigh.’

How therefore could she help but braid

The gold into my hair,

And dream that I should carry

The golden top of care?