W.B. Yeats (1865–1939). The Wind Among the Reeds. 1899.

6. Breasal the Fisherman

ALTHOUGH you hide in the ebb and flow

Of the pale tide when the moon has set,

The people of coming days will know

About the casting out of my net,

And how you have leaped times out of mind

Over the little silver cords,

And think that you were hard and unkind,

And blame you with many bitter words.