Come play with me;
Why should you run
Through the shaking tree
As though I’d a gun
To strike you dead?
When all I would do
Is to scratch your head
And let you go.
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