First Merchant Monologue from The Land of Heart's Desire

From The Land of Heart's Desire by W.B. Yeats

male · philosophical · 47 sec

There are some men who hold they have wolves’ heads, And say their limbs, dried by the infinite flame, Have all the speed of storms; others again Say they are gross and little; while a few Will have it they seem much as mortals are, But tall and brown and travelled, like us, lady. Yet all agree a power is in their looks That makes men bow, and flings a casting-net About their souls, and that all men would go And barter those poor flames—their spirits—only You bribe them with the safety of your gold.

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