'The Player Queen' by William Butler Yeats

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?

by William Butler Yeats

Other poems by 'William Butler Yeats'

Brown Penny

He Wishes For The Cloths Of Heaven

The Second Coming

September 1913

An Irish Airman Forsees His Death

The Stolen Child

Sailing To Byzantium

The Lake Isle Of Innisfree

Under Ben Bulben

A Prayer For My Daughter

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