Wine comes in at the mouth
And love comes in at the eye;
That’s all we shall know for truth
Before we grow old and die.
I lift the glass to my mouth,
I look at you, and I sigh.
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Other works by W. B. Yeats...
To a Wealthy Man Who Promised a Second Subscription to the Dublin Municipal Gallery If It Were Proved the People Wanted Pictures
YOU gave, but will not give again
Until enough of paudeen’s pence
By Biddy’s halfpennies have lain
To be 'some sort of evidence’,
Before you’ll put your guineas dow