The Three Hermits ~ Yeats

The Three Hermits

William Butler Yeats

Three old hermits took the air 
By a cold and desolate sea, 
First was muttering a prayer, 
Second rummaged for a flea; 
On a windy stone, the third, 
Giddy with his hundredth year, 
Sang unnoticed like a bird. 
'Though the Door of Death is near 
And what waits behind the door, 
Three times in a single day 
I, though upright on the shore, 
Fall asleep when I should pray.' 
So the first but now the second, 
'We're but given what we have earned 
When all thoughts and deeds are reckoned, 
So it's plain to be discerned 
That the shades of holy men, 
Who have failed being weak of will, 
Pass the Door of Birth again, 
And are plagued by crowds, until 
They've the passion to escape.' 
Moaned the other, 'They are thrown 
Into some most fearful shape.' 
But the second mocked his moan: 
'They are not changed to anything, 
Having loved God once, but maybe, 
To a poet or a king 
Or a witty lovely lady.' 
While he'd rummaged rags and hair, 
Caught and cracked his flea, the third, 
Giddy with his hundredth year 
Sang unnoticed like a bird.
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Author: Ray Calabrese

I am an optimistic, can do, and never quit guy. The spirit of hope indelibly marks my DNA. My research at The Ohio State University helped people discover the best in themselves and change their personal lives, public organizations, and whole communities. I bring the same spirit and enthusiasm to my blog to help those who grieve who find themselves suddenly alone, navigate their grieving. Join my more than 24,300Twitter (@alwaysgoodstuff). I promise my tweets are always good stuff. Please feel free to email me at ray.brese@gmail.com.

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