The Frail Hart

A poem that was inspired by Yeats (and maybe some others guys too)

The Frail Hart

ONE FEBRUARY morn I walked

‘Till I was all but lost

Yet still I strayed into the wood

Trees barren but for frost.

In time I came upon a lake

And paused at water’s edge

An ancient graceful form there stood,

A stag among the sedge.

A twig I broke as I approached

His stately head he raised

His breath made clouds upon the air

And still I stood, amazed.

Perhaps my scent on breeze he caught,

Or perhaps some sense within

Alerted thus, he leapt away

And I saw him ne’er again.

The sound of hooves now filled the wood

And all around me rang

From bough and branch the frost was felled.

So cracked, the ice soon sang.

And across the frozen mere so calm

The rapt refrain resounds

“Though the heart but frailly beats,

Its passion knows no bounds.”